


The Mole 2.0

by dreamcatcher (darcangell23)



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Play along guessing, Reality Competition, The Mole - Freeform, Version 2.0, cameos from other characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2020-06-27 03:39:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 62,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darcangell23/pseuds/dreamcatcher
Summary: Twelve strangers working together to earn a prize of up to $500,000. But one of them is a saboteur, a traitor, working for the production team to try and stop the others from banking the money. That person, is the mole. Do you know who it is? Play along and watch rules be bent as relationships might start to form along the way. But see if you can figure it out.





	1. Just Dropping In

**Author's Note:**

> I realize it has been over a year since the last time I posted on AO3. But this is something I've done before and it can be found on fanfiction.net and S&C. It's something that after rereading the original, I decided I really wanted to try again. So there will be differences. I've added two more players this time around and am planning on attempting to create all the games myself rather than take them from the actual show, which is no longer on I might add. It's been gone a number of years but you can find it on youtube.
> 
> I'm also planning on using new clues and possibly one other thing that came from an incarnation of the real competition show, though I'm not going to say which or what it is. I'll let you in on that at the very end when I tell you all my author's clues. So sit back, relax, play along, and be sure to comment on who you think is the mole.

The angle of the camera was wide as music played and it gave an expansive view of the surrounding mountains and hills before coming to rest on one man standing at the peak of one, one foot resting on a slightly higher incline than the other and his hands in his pockets. This man was Will Schuester, host of the ever popular reality competition show, The Mole. And the camera shot was zooming in for the introduction to a brand new season. Behind the scenes action was called and the intro began.

“Twelve strangers, working together to reach a prize total of five hundred thousand dollars,” Will began, speaking to the audience behind the camera. “But among them is a saboteur, a traitor, a double agent, working for us to try and hinder the other players from banking the money. That person is the mole. Their task is simple. To win the money, they must answer one question. Who is the mole?

“Is it Kurt Hummel, a twenty-eight year old interior decorator from Seattle, Washington?

“Tina Cohen-Chang, a twenty-five year old medical student from Carson City, Nevada?

“Blaine Anderson, a twenty-seven year old musician from San Francisco, California?

“Quinn Fabray, a twenty-six year old fashion model from Chicago, Illinois?

“Finn Hudson, a twenty-nine year old mechanic from Columbus, Ohio?

“Rachel Berry, a twenty-eight year old Broadway star from New York City, New York?

“Mike Chang, a twenty-nine year old professional dancer from Los Angeles, California?

“Mercedes Jones, a twenty-seven year old songwriter from Reno, Nevada?

“Noah Puckerman, a thirty year old professional football player from Miami, Florida?

“Santana Lopez, a twenty-six year old professional cheerleader from Dallas, Texas?

“Sam Evans, a twenty-five year old high school football coach from Memphis, Tennessee?

“Or Brittany Pierce, a twenty-six year old mathematics student from Boston, Massechussetts?”

Each player’s introduction was accompanied by a picture, along with their profile details which would cross the screen when the show aired on television after production was complete.

“Eleven of these twelve people are genuine players, working to add and win a total prize of up to five hundred thousand dollars. The last person, is the mole. Can you figure it out? Who is the mole?”

A bit more theme music and credits and the camera cut to Will now standing in an open field with a giant airbag behind him.

“Good evening and welcome to another season of The Mole. I’m your host Will Schuester and right now, this field around me is empty. But in a few moments, my new guests will be dropping in to join the party. Hopefully all twelve of them will come safely landing in this airbag right here.” He gestured to the airbag behind him. “Because for every one of them that does, I’m going to give them one thousand dollars. However, if they arrive in one of the production vans still on its way here, they will earn nothing. The catch? Our players don’t even know that this is the first test of the game.”

The sound of yelling filled the air and the shot was raised skyward to where about three helicopters hovered some feet above the landing bag. A young man had just jumped out of one of them. A closer point of view showed that he was tall and slender with delicately pale skin.

“The players are arriving now,” Will said. Only moments later there was a poofing sound as the young man fell into the airbag and rolled toward the edge. “Congratulations,” Will said, giving him a hand up. “You have just earned the group its first thousand dollars.”

Looking stunned, his perfectly coifed chestnut hair windblown from the drop, the young man looked surprised. “Wait, really?” he asked. Will nodded.

“See, here’s what you don’t know. For every player who arrives by dropping in so to speak, I’m going to give the group one thousand dollars. By the end of this test, the group pot can have a possible total of twelve thousand dollars. Not a bad start, is it?”

The pale man shook his head.

“You must be Kurt,” Will said. “I already know all your names,” he added when Kurt appeared slightly stunned.

“Do you know who the mole is too?” Kurt asked, though his tone was light, suggesting that he may have been joking.

When Will responded though, it was a serious reply. “No, I don’t. They never tell me, for fear that I might possibly slip up and give it away. It can happen you know.” Kurt didn’t know. In fact, it had never even dawned on him in all the seasons of this show that he’d watched, that Will didn’t know who the mole was any more than the players. It would seem now that there was only one person on camera who knew who the mole was. And that was the mole themselves.

A piercing scream split the air and Kurt and Will both turned to see a girl falling from one of the helicopters.

“Why did I agree to do THIS?!” she shouted, her final word impacted with her fall into the airbag. Kurt could only chuckle as he made his way over to help her out.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Kurt and I know just how you feel about making that jump.”

The girl turned out to be Asian. She was brushing some strands of her long dark hair back into place. “Hello Kurt,” she said, a smile crossing her face. “I’m Tina, Tina Cohen-Chang.”

“Nice to meet you Tina,” Kurt replied.

Will stepped forward. “Congratulations Tina. Because you opted to take the drop, another one thousand dollars has been added to the group’s pot, bringing the total to two thousand dollars. We are two for two. Do you think we can go three for three?” Kurt and Tina cheered.

“Wait,” Tina suddenly said. “We’re already playing?” Kurt nodded. “Then anyone who doesn’t take the drop could possibly be the mole.” Kurt nodded a second time after a moment. He hadn’t thought of that but she was right. Only the mole would know that dropping from the helicopter would bank them money. If the mole refused to do it, it would cost them money.

“And they also know whatever money we don’t bank as a team, or we lose, goes to them.”

“I see you are an avid watcher of the show Kurt,” Will interrupted. A light blush colored the pale man’s cheeks.

It was then that a van pulled up from the dirt road just out yonder, a road neither Kurt nor Tina had noticed before. Will gave his head a short shake. “It seems you may have your first suspect now,” he said as the van came to a stop and the back door opened.

Out stepped a short girl with long brunette hair. She was tan skinned and had a headband on her head. Kurt raised an eyebrow at the girl’s attire. She certainly seemed too old to be dressing so childish. But the thought distracted him for a moment only, because he then realized who she was.

“Is this a joke?” Kurt asked, turning to Will. The short brunette girl frowned and Tina looked confused. “Because mark my words, since when was Broadway’s Rachel Berry interested in getting adventurous?” It didn’t matter to him that she hadn’t dropped. He highly doubted producers would choose a girl like her to play the mole. She took her acting much more seriously than she probably should.

“I need to improve my image,” Rachel stated, approaching the three of them.

Tina raised one eyebrow. “Well, you’re not off to a very good start. You just cost the group a thousand dollars for not jumping.”

Rachel frowned. “Well, if someone had told me there was money in it, I might have considered it more.”

Kurt decided to just stay quiet with that comment, because any response he would have given would have been downright rude. And the last thing he wanted to do, was get off on the wrong foot.

“Rachel,” Will began. “You did not drop so the team remains at two thousand dollars in the pot.” The girl frowned a second time. But the disappointment was short lived because a second van was now pulling up.

“Suspect number two,” Tina whispered.

The guy who stepped out of this van couldn’t be more opposite than Rachel Berry. He was tall and looked like he could have been a pro athlete if he wanted to. Maybe a basketball player. At the same time, he didn’t appear like dropping out of the helicopter would have scared him so the three players were all genuinely confused why he had refused to do it.

“Hello Finn,” Will said. “I see you have decided against dropping in, which means you didn’t earn a thousand dollars for the group pot and it once more remains at two thousand dollars.”

Kurt eyed the taller man for a moment. “I don’t get it,” he finally said.

“Don’t get what?” Finn replied. The current expression on his face made him appear like a helpless kicked puppy, and it was clear he felt really bad for not dropping in.

It was Tina who responded. “Why didn’t you jump? You don’t look like someone who would be phased by it,” she said.

Finn let out a sigh and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Um…” he started. “I was a little worried the bag would blow.” A light pink blush bloomed on his cheeks.

“Let me get this straight,” Kurt said. “You were worried you would pop it?” Finn nodded.

“He can pop anything as far as I’m concerned,” Rachel said, glancing up at Finn with a dreamy expression on her face.

“Oh brother,” Tina muttered.

All replies were halted though by the sound of someone drawing out an expletive as they fell from the helicopter. The five of them looked up just in time to see another woman fall into the bag. She refused any help from the rest of them, choosing to climb out of the airbag on her own. A scowl was written across her tan face.

“That had better have been worth it,” she said.

Will was the first to approach her. “Congratulations Santana, you have just added another thousand dollars to the group pot, bringing the grand total now to three thousand dollars!” he congratulated her.

The woman, whose name was Santana they now knew, gave him a critical eye. “Out of a possible what?” she asked, glancing suspiciously at the four other players standing there.

“Five thousand dollars,” Will said. “Out of the five of you, three of you dropped, two of you didn’t. Three out of five so far is pretty good. For every player who drops, you earn another thousand dollars for the group pot.”

Santana crossed her arms over her chest, now eyeing the other players critically, perhaps wondering which of them was responsible for not dropping. And she looked like the kind of person who would go off on them for it.

Luckily, she didn’t have the chance to start questioning them as the sound of whooping broke the air. The guy who was now falling was definitely a big guy and he didn’t have a normal hairstyle either.

“Are you serious?” Finn asked, watching him fall.

“Serious about what Frankenstein?” Santana quipped. Finn ignored the odd insult, his eyes still watching the newcomer fall.

“That’s Noah Puckerman of the Miami Dolphins.”

Santana cursed under her breath as she took a better look at the man who was almost to the airbag now. Finn was right. And as a professional cheerleader for the Dallas Cowboys, she would know. But Noah “Puck” Puckerman was the last football player she really wanted to be spending the next two weeks or so with. Her first thought would be that he would be dismissed from the game because he was the kind of person who was liable to not care about violating rules. The Latina crossed her arms over her chest again.

“Right you are Finn,” Will said as the football player landed in the airbag. “Congratulations Noah,” he went on. “You just earned one thousand dollars for the pot, bringing it to a total of four thousand dollars.”

Puck stood, carefully stretching his limbs as if the fall had been nothing. He looked back at Will. “Uh, thanks, and I prefer to go by Puck,” he said, glancing around at the other players and a smirk landed on his face when he spotted Santana. The cheerleader just scowled back at him. “Oh, you know you can’t resist my presence."

“Bite me Puckerman!” Santana spit out and before he could respond she added, “That wasn’t an invitation!” Puck shut his mouth.

Another van was making its way off the road and Santana scowled yet again. She looked ready to spit something out but said nothing.

The van came to a stop and a dark skinned girl stepped out of the back. She waved a bit sheepishly, knowing that she must look like a coward to the rest of them standing around and waiting for more arrivals.

“Hi, I’m Mercedes Jones,” she said to the group. Kurt politely smiled at her and offered his hand in introduction. Rachel smacked it down though, effectively garnering herself one of his famous bitch glares.

“She could be the mole for all you know!” Rachel defended, throwing her hands up into the air.

Mercedes narrowed her eyes at the short girl but before she could say anything, Santana beat her to it.

“How do we know you’re not the mole man hands?” the Latina bit out. Rachel looked ready to retort and Will held his hand up to stop it.

“There will be plenty of time for competitive banter later,” he said. “Mercedes, you did not drop so the group pot remains at four thousand dollars out of a possible seven thousand to be earned.” There were a few groans throughout the group. Their quota was not so good anymore. Could the mole already be at work here? They now had three possible prime suspects but none of them seemed like they were ideal for the mole. However, they shouldn’t really judge a book by its cover.

Another van was pulling up and there was nothing from the helicopters above, a sign that maybe no one else was going to take the plunge. However, they weren’t leaving either so they couldn’t be too sure.

The van came to a stop and out stepped the most attractive man Kurt had ever seen in his life. Instead of his first thought being how could this man be scared to jump, it was more along the lines of damn, he’s hot.

A little on the shorter side, definitely an inch or so shorter than Kurt himself was, the man was impeccably dressed in mustard yellow pants a white polo shirt with a yellow collar and a yellow bow-tie. To top it off, he was wearing yellow sunglasses and his hair was neatly gelled down to his head. Kurt didn’t care what his excuse for not jumping was. His appearance more than made up for it.

“Hello Blaine,” Will said. “Unfortunately, you did not drop so you did not earn one thousand dollars for the pot, leaving it still at four thousand dollars out of a possible eight thousand.”

Santana crossed her arms once more and eyed Blaine. “Okay, those three I can believe wouldn’t jump,” she said, ticking her thumb at Rachel, Finn, and Mercedes who all protested in a what’s that supposed to mean manner. The Latina ignored them. “But what’s your excuse hobbit?” she asked.

Blaine was slightly taken aback by the woman’s abrasiveness, but it was surprisingly Puck who came to his rescue. Or sort of anyway.

“Lay off him Santana. Maybe he had some hot anal sex last night and his ass hurts or something,” the football player replied. Blaine blushed up around his ears and Kurt choked on the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“That was uncalled for!” Kurt bit. “Not to mention an offensive assumption.”

Puck narrowed his eyes in on Kurt. “Bet you wouldn’t be saying that if it was you he was having anal sex with,” he said.

Kurt was so livid he almost walked up and backhanded the football player across the face. The only reason that he didn’t was because he didn’t believe in violence. Instead, he moved as far away from Puck as he possibly could get while still being a part of their group. Everyone else had been stunned into silence, even Will.

The awkwardness of the uncomfortable moment was broken by yet another scream. A blonde girl was now falling through the air from one of the helicopters. “I’m going to kill you for putting me through this Daniel!” she shouted as she fell.

An already familiar whooshing sound filled the air as she landed in the airbag and turned out to be so light, she rolled right off to the ground. Will offered a hand to help her up.

“Well done Quinn, you have just earned another thousand dollars for the group pot, bringing it up to five thousand dollars.”

“I don’t believe it,” Kurt suddenly said, his tone changing drastically. “You’re Quinn Fabray, the fashion model.”

Quinn had been about to reply when Santana once more piped up, her eyes on Blaine. “The fact that a fashion model has more guts than you hobbit, makes absolutely no sense at all.”

Blaine opened and closed his mouth, not sure how to respond to the comment. Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt noted Puck opening his mouth in an attempt to cut in again, but the pale man gave the football player one of his if looks could kill glares and it shut the man up before he could even get a word in. There was no doubt that Kurt Hummel knew how to be intimidating. His secret was that he had suffered through school with bullies breathing down his neck everyday. He considered himself an expert at fighting back these days. Once upon a time he used to just let it all roll off his back and try to ignore it, but contrary to popular belief, that tactic didn’t work. In fact, it lead to one of his most uncomfortable memories of high school. A shudder rolled through him at the mere thought of it.

“How many people are we waiting on now?” Quinn asked, breaking the awkward tension in the air.

“Depends on if this season is ten or twelve,” Finn replied, indicating that he must have watched at least some of the past seasons.

“Guess we’ll get our answer if one or two people come in the next couple of minutes,” Puck responded, his voice now oddly quiet.

Tina, who had been mostly quiet for the past little while gave her head a nod, clearly unable to figure out what to say now. There was already tension between them and it was no doubt a sign that this was going to be a rather competitive season. But the Asian girl feared that it would also be one of the most dramatic, if what had already transpired was anything to go by.

More screaming filled the air. This time, two people had dropped from the helicopters at the same time. They were both blonde. One was a guy and the other another girl. They both hit the airbag at nearly the same time and rolled in opposite directions. The girl was giggling by the end of it.

“Do it again! Do it again!” she cheered, clapping her hands together. Most of the nine already standing there exchanged looks with each other, not sure what to make of this girl. Santana however, stepped forward to offer her a hand up, surprising considering how brash she’d been the whole time they’d been there. But Kurt could see it, the soft spot the cheerleader seemed to already have for the blonde girl. A glance at Blaine told him that the other man had picked up on the same thing.

Finn helped the guy up to his feet. “You okay dude?” he asked. The man nodded, brushing his hands down himself to dispose of any dust that might have collected when falling into the airbag. “Well, we have our answer on how many people will be in this season,” Finn added.

“Firstly,” Will started, “Congratulations Brittany and Sam. You both chose to drop so you both add one thousand dollars to the pot, bringing the total up to seven thousand dollars.” There were cheers. “Secondly---”

But Kurt cut him off just then. “Hold on a second!” he said, putting his hand up. “You can’t say Finn could still be wrong. When I first got here, being the first person to arrive - and yes, I jumped - you told me I had earned the first one thousand dollars of a possible twelve thousand dollars. At one thousand per person, that means there are twelve players this season.”

“Did I?” Will said, playing sheepish. “Perhaps, but you can’t be too prepared for twists that might be waiting around the corner.”

The eleven of them all looked at each other. It was possible Will was only saying that to put them all on edge. But there was always a chance there was some truth to it. What if one person was executed only to be replaced by a new player? What if there were more players, but not all of them were arriving here now? What if he was just yanking their chain? None of them really had any way of knowing, not even those who had watched the show from the very first episode. Like Kurt.

It was eerily silent in the field as no one said a word and the only sounds were that of the helicopter blades cutting through the air. Two of them had already started to fly off, but the third one was still hovering in the air above the airbag. There was one person left to jump. That was the only explanation. Unless it was lingering there for effect, until the last van pulled up. But a glance at the road showed no signs of any such van and the players all turned their attention to the sky once more.

It seemed like an eternity but was likely only a few drawn out moments before a figure fell out of the helicopter. It was a guy with dark hair, but they couldn’t make out any other details. He was too high up still.

He was also the first person to drop that didn’t make any yells, almost as if this was something he might have done before. Could it be that the mole had some practice drops before all of this? It appeared a few of them were thinking the same thing. Rachel exchanged a glance with Finn, who looked at Sam, who in turn glanced toward Mercedes. There was one thing that was certain, the fact that this guy was falling silently, made him stand out from everyone else.

The whooshing of the air in the airbag resounded for the last time as the man fell into it and the final helicopter began departing its position overhead.

“Congratulations Mike, you are the final player to arrive and the final one to drop which gives the group a grand total of eight thousand dollars out of a possible twelve thousand there was to earn.”

Mike, as Will had addressed gave a nod as he stood to his feet. Like Tina, he was of Asian descent and the girl suddenly couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“Why didn’t you scream?” Mercedes asked, giving him a critical eye.

The man looked over at her. “Haven’t you ever been on a rollercoaster and left your voice at the top of the first drop?”

If he was the mole, he had a brilliant explanation prepared obviously because that wasn’t something unheard of and most of them nodded. But for a few, he was still on the list. Of course the mole would be prepared to talk their way out of anything that made them look suspicious.

Will cleared his throat. “Well done guys! You are all here. You are starting now with eight thousand dollars added to the pot and we all know where the remaining four is going.” They glanced at each other. “To the mole. Now, you’ll find your bags are awaiting you now by the vans that already delivered four of you. If you’ll grab them and file in three to a van, we’ll be on our way to our first destination. Be prepared to be observant and welcome to The Mole.”

The theme music could be heard playing from somewhere as the players broke to make their way to the vans, each one grabbing his or her own mole duffle and piled in. They still had a long journey ahead of them. This was only the beginning.


	2. The First Execution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember for those who may be familiar with my original Glee/The Mole crossover, I am trying to do things differently this time. One thing is attempting to come up with all the games myself rather than pulling from the show. Except for perhaps the Truthful Knowledge in the final three. I don't know yet. The results format I'm using in this fic actually comes from The Mole US Season 5, the last season the US ever had. I have decided to use something else from that season as well. See if you can pick up on it once we get further down the road.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the first execution chapter! I do once again have may execution order mapped out!

In the vans to destination mystery, Kurt found himself feeling both elated, and miserable. On the one hand, he got to share a van with Blaine, who was even more incredibly attractive up close. On the other hand, he also had to deal with Rachel, who seemed to not be very happy in a van with the two gay men either. Not because she took offense to it though. Rachel was raised by two gay dads. But because she wasn’t in a van with a certain someone.

The brunette kept turning around in her seat to glance at the van behind them. The van that carried Finn, along with Puck and Sam. She kept sighing dramatically, an action that clued both Kurt and Blaine in to the fact that she really wanted them to take notice of her pining. The two of them exchanged glances.

“It wouldn’t matter if he was interested anyway Rachel,” Kurt finally said.

“Yeah,” Blaine agreed. “The rules frown upon building any kind of romantic relationship with other players.” And as he said it, Kurt could almost swear the bow tie clad cutie had glanced at him with a frown of his own on his face.

Rachel scowled, letting out a ‘hmph’ as she once more turned back around in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. “As if stupid producers could really stop love in its tracks,” she muttered, only loud enough for Kurt and Blaine to hear. Once more, the two of them exchanged glances. Neither wanted to point out that her desire might be one-sided for a second time. Kurt had already basically noted that Finn might not be as interested in Rachel as she was in Finn.

“I don’t think you’re the only one who feels something,” piped up a completely different voice and all three of them looked up to see the driver glancing in his rearview mirror. “Though you didn’t hear that from me,” he added.

This time, all three players exchanged looks with each other, astounded the man would put in his two cents, rather than try and navigate them away from the topic.

“Well, I think Santana has a thing for Brittany,” Kurt finally said. “But I don’t have a clue who else might be sliding into dangerous territory.”

It was quiet for a beat before Blaine jumped in with his own observations. “I kind of feel like everyone might have some sort of attraction to someone else, though some might be very good at denying it.”

Rachel shook her head. “No way. Quinn Fabray is engaged I believe,” she said.

“Yeah, to her manager,” Kurt threw in with a frown. “Do you know how bad that will look for her in public relations?” Not that he would ever say so to the model’s face, but being in a relationship with the person who was meant to promote and push forward your career, made it look like you were riding on bias and free tickets and not really getting anywhere based on talent. Even if the model in question was actually good at the work.

“Maybe she needs it,” Rachel said. “A background of teen pregnancy doesn’t exactly add brownie points when you’re an aspiring model.” Kurt and Blaine gaped at her. “And who knows, maybe she’s doing this because she needs money.”

The fact that Rachel Berry could so blatantly scandalize another person like that left Kurt with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d read that the Broadway diva had a bit of an ego and sometimes could come across as too full of herself and conceited. Rachel Berry had the impression that everyone loved her, that she was better than everyone else, and that she could do no wrong. There was no doubt in Kurt’s mind that she probably believed that she would be winning this competition hands down. There was just no way that he was going to let that happen.

Not another word was spoken in their van for the rest of the drive. Kurt didn’t trust himself to speak because he was not above giving his blunt opinion. He had some choice words for Rachel right then that he was sure would upset her. And as much as he was starting to feel completely annoyed by the diva, he was not here to start drama with anyone. He was here to win.

Neither of them knew why Blaine had gone quiet. One look at him and Kurt could practically see the wheels turning in the man’s head. He seemed to have drifted off in his own little world. And to be fair, he had.

But instead of thinking about his strategy, Blaine was busy thinking about new dance moves for a song he was set to release when he got home. He’d long since decided on his strategy. Just play it cool and have fun and ultimately be himself. There was no doubt that would lead to him possibly being noted as one of the most humble players in mole history. However, he was aware that playing in a way that suspicion would be off of him, might very well lead to an early downfall. Wasn’t the point of this game to make other people think you were the mole so that they would guess wrong and be executed and you could keep playing and hopefully make your way to the end? Not to Blaine. Blaine didn’t play that way. Blaine, played being Blaine.

Later on the flight to the mystery destination, Rachel finally got her wish. She was seated next to Finn and coincidentally talking the tall man’s ear off. Not that anyone would point it out to her but Finn did look slightly uncomfortable. But he wasn’t uncomfortable because it was Rachel. He was uncomfortable because he wasn’t that good at upholding long conversation.

Midway through the flight, Will appeared in the aisle of the plane. None of the players had any idea that he was even on the same journey as they were. He just always seemed to be waiting wherever they were meant to land.

“Hello players!” Will called enthusiastically. There was a resounding chorus of returned greetings, all in various stages of enthusiasm. A few of them were half-asleep in their seats. “I want to call your attention to the seatbacks in front of you.” They all looked. “In each one, you might notice a folder marked with the familiar logo of the mole. I would like you to take them all out now and set them on your trays in front of you.” The players all did as they were told and set the folders in front of them.

“Is this going somewhere butt chin?” Santana asked, staring at the logo on the folder.

To his credit, Will ignored her comment. “The mole has been doing some digging. He or she has found some very interesting stuff. I want you to spread out, so that everyone is in their own row of seats.” A few of them groaned a bit before people got up and moved to empty areas. Now, you all can check what is inside your folders, But before you do, I must impress upon you that the contents of your folder are for your eyes only.”

The thought drew a few curious looks before each player opened his or her own folder.

“Oh uh uh!” called Mercedes. “How did the mole get this?” Quinn, who was seated behind her just looked plain horrified at what she found in her own folder.

“Isn’t this a violation of privacy man?” Puck spit out.

“Yeah what do you know about privacy?” Kurt retorted.

Will took it all in stride. “You may notice what you are looking at is a photo, a photo of yourself, but one that would not be directly recognizable to the other players. So now, what I need you all to do is to elect someone you think is very observant.”

The players all glanced at each other. “We have to do this unanimously?” Sam asked.

“Haven’t you ever seen the show before white boy?” Mercedes said to him. The blonde guy shook his head. “Maybe you should have watched some past episodes as pre-mole research,” she told him.

“I’ll do it,” Puck declared.

Santana snorted. “Right, the only thing you’re observant of Puckerman is female anatomy.”

“You weren’t complaining when I said yours was delicious.”

The others couldn’t tell if Santana wasn’t replying because she was speechless or because she didn’t think it was worth it. In any case, it became quite clear that she was not interested in allowing Puck to be the observant one. However, if no one else volunteered, they didn’t really know each other well enough yet to decide on someone unanimously.

Blaine suddenly raised his hand. “I can do it. I’m very good at picking up on little things.” No one seemed to have any objections to him volunteering.

“Very well, as soon as we land, the rest of you will be off to the hotel and Blaine will follow me,” Will said. After that he left the cabin.

None of them had even the slightest idea what was coming. Well, one person did, but it wasn’t like they were going to say anything. Of course though, not even the mole would be able to account for everything that would happen in the game.

It was sometime later the flight touched down in their destination of Paris, France but the players hardly had a moment to discover the city. They couldn’t even leave Charles de Gaulle yet, which was a shame because those who were to be heading straight for the hotel, were really itching to get a look at the beautiful Parisian skyline.

“I just want to sit at a French cafe,” Kurt whined as they all stood around the baggage claim area. But they couldn’t leave, not yet.

“I’ll take you to one,” Blaine piped up, blushing only a moment later, when he realized how that could sound.

Kurt blushed as well and was about to say that he would love that if they weren’t playing a game when Will approached the group.

“I see you all made it here in one piece,” he joked.

Santana narrowed her eyes. “You should know. You were on the same plane.”

“Yeah, probably in the first class section,” Puck added.

Once more, Will ignored the insults. “Blaine if you will please come and stand by me.” Blaine did as he was asked, throwing Kurt a quick smile as he did. “The rest of you are free to enjoy your time until dinner. Although, given that whether you bank anything on this test, now rests on Blaine, I’m sure enjoying yourselves will not come easily. A total of twenty-two thousand dollars is up to be won in this test, two thousand for every correct answer.”

It was Sam who piped up. “But that’s only eleven. There are twelve of us!” It was clear he had picked up on this test having to do with the contents of their folders, but part of it had gone over his head.

Will just smirked at him knowingly. What was the fun in clearly explaining everything to those who weren’t actually playing? However, he got the sense that most of them knew where this was going. “Have a pleasant afternoon and Blaine and I will see you all later.” He turned and walked Blaine out another direction.

“If Blaine messes this up, he’s obviously the mole,” Rachel stated, crossing her arms. Kurt scowled at her. She was starting to bug him more and more, especially with how little disregard she held for others.

As the remaining eleven players found themselves headed first to the hotel and then to enjoy the city, Blaine found himself being ushered into a conference room. He had no idea the airport had a conference room.

Inside the room was a chalkboard. Upon the chalkboard was taped eleven childhood pictures. Blaine didn’t have to study them intently to realize his own was the only one not taped up. He did take a moment to really study the other photographs.

“Blaine,” Will said. “In a moment you are going to be putting your observation skills to the test. Before you are eleven childhood pictures. And as you might have guessed, they are all of your fellow players when they were young. Your task is to figure out who each photo belongs to. You will write your answer beneath the photo. For every one you match correctly, I will add two thousand dollars to the pot. Get all eleven answers correct and you can earn a total of twenty-two thousand dollars.”

Blaine was still studying the photos on the chalkboard. “How many chances to I get to get them right?” he asked.

Will looked at a table which had a timer sitting on it. “Until you hear the bell ding. This timer will give you approximately fifteen minutes to get as many right as you possibly can. However, you may only submit one answer to me at a time. If you’re right, I’ll let you know. If you’re wrong, you’ll have to try again. You don’t have to answer in any specific order.”

The young man knew that there was a lot riding on how well he did in this test. Getting all eleven right could either go one of two ways. It could make the players all exceedingly grateful to him, or they could become suspicious that he might have had a means of knowing all the answers, in which they would point fingers at him as the mole. On the other hand, get too many wrong and there was more chance of swaying suspicion to himself. He said he was observant and he needed to prove it. At least he felt like he had to.

“Are you ready Blaine?” Will asked as the man walked up to the chalkboard and picked up a piece of chalk.

“As I’ll ever be,” he replied.

Will placed a hand on top of the timer. “Your time starts now.” He hit the button and Blaine immediately put his game face on. Maybe he should start with the pictures that were the easiest. There were at least three and if the others had any idea what he was doing, it was going to look bad on him if he didn’t at least get those right.

He placed the chalk below the picture of a happy looking dark skinned girl with curly pigtails on top of her head and wrote down Mercedes’ name.

“Correct,” Will said when he glanced to him. “Two thousand dollars has been added to the pot.”

Blaine visibly relaxed. He placed the chalk beneath another picture and paused, looking over at Will. “You know, some of these are really easy, so how does that make them a challenge?” he asked.

He was stunned when Will pressed the button to pause the timer. “You really are observant, aren’t you? I’ll tell you what. I’m going to offer you a deal here Blaine. Forfeit the rest of this seemingly simple test now and I will add half the twenty-two thousand dollars to the pot.”

“What’s the catch?” Blaine asked, knowing it couldn’t be that simple.

“It’s too early in the game for catches, don’t you think?” Will asked. Blaine narrowed his eyes at him. He smelled a rat. Something told him this was going to come back to bite him later. How much later though, he couldn’t be sure.

Blaine glanced at Will, he glanced at the chalkboard, he thought about it. “If I forfeit now, you’ll add eleven thousand dollars to the pot?”

“Correct.”

Again, Blaine glanced between Will and the chalkboard. “Deal,” he finally said, feeling a slight dread he might regret it.

“Okay then. A total of eleven thousand dollars has been added to the pot, bringing it up to nineteen thousand dollars.”

_But at what expense?_ Blaine thought to himself as Will lead him back out of the conference room and out of the airport.

That night, they all sat around the dinner table, sipping from their wine glasses and Will sat at the head of the table. “Good evening and welcome to your first execution dinner.” His words stunned the table as a whole and a few of them dropped their forks.

“What? I thought that wasn’t until tomorrow!” Tina cried.

“It is tomorrow,” Will said. “You see, the flight did carry us overnight. I hope you’re all prepared.”

Rachel looked slightly horrified, as did a number of the rest of them. “But...but only Blaine participated in the second test!” she cried out.

“Speaking of,” Will started and Blaine gave him a look. This was it, whatever the catch was. “As you all left the airport, I took Blaine, the person you decided was most observant, to a conference room. There, I gave him fifteen minutes to match the childhood photo, to the player it belonged to. For every answer he got correct, he would earn two thousand dollars. However, after just one answer, I offered Blaine a deal.”

For a moment the group all muttered amongst themselves and few of them eyed Blaine suspiciously.

Will went on. “I told him, that if he forfeited the test right then, I would add half the total amount possible to the group’s pot. Blaine, do you want to tell them what you decided?” he asked.

Blaine swallowed his bite of food. “I took it. I took the deal. It gave us a guaranteed added eleven thousand dollars, but Will refused to tell me the catch.”

A few of the others glanced at each other. Who would take an offer without knowing the catch? Clearly that might not have been the smartest course of action. Blaine opened and closed his fists beneath the table, clearly noting that maybe they weren’t all happy with what he had done.

“I lied,” Will said. “There is a catch. A catch that will benefit someone other than you Blaine.” This highly intrigued the rest of them. “Blaine managed to correctly identify one photo before I made him the offer. As a result, that person will now receive an exemption from tonight’s execution.” Collective gasps went up around the table and it was all Blaine could do not to facepalm right there. Of course. Of course the one person got an exemption. No wonder why Will made the offer after just one correct answer.

There was a beat in which Will let them all stew in the tension. Each of them wondered which person had earned that exemption.

Finally, the host spoke again. “Congratulations Mercedes. You have earned an exemption and therefore cannot be executed tonight.”

The girl was startled and surprised that it was her, but certainly not ungrateful. No one wanted to be the first one to leave. No one wanted to be the mole’s first victim and now she wouldn’t be. Everyone else now had a one in ten chance of being executed. Two people were guaranteed safety tonight. One was Mercedes and the other was the mole. This notion made no one feel anymore the safer.

One by one the players went in to take the quiz. Ten questions about the mole.

Question One: Is the mole male or female?

Question Two: In Just Dropping In, did the mole jump from a helicopter?

Question Three: In what position did the mole arrive in Just Dropping In?

Question Four: Who was the mole in a van with on the way to the airport?

Question Five: Where was the mole seated on the flight to Paris?

Question Six: Was the mole chosen to participate in the Photographic Memory Game?

Question Seven: Did the mole earn an exemption tonight?

Question Eight: Where is the mole from?

Question Nine: What does the mole do for a living?

Question Ten: Who is the mole?

With everyone’s answers locked in, the twelve players filed into the two rows of chairs in the courtyard of their hotel.

Will stood beside a TV screen, upon which was the mole logo, waiting patiently as the players all took their seats. Their bags were all packed and lined up neatly along the courtyard wall.

“Good evening and welcome to your first execution,” he began. “The player who scored the lowest on the quiz will be executed. In the event of a tie, the player who answered the questions in the slowest time, will be executed. In a moment, I will tap your picture on the screen to gain access to your results. If the screen turns green, you are safe and can continue playing. If the screen turns red, you are the mole’s first victim. You must take your bag and leave the game immediately. Mercedes, you earned an exemption, which means you cannot be executed tonight. Let’s begin. Rachel.”

The brunette girl tensed as Will tapped her picture in the line up and it came up with a button to access her results. Will looked at her for indication that she was ready. She swallowed a lump in her throat and then carefully nodded her head. Will tapped the access results button.

You could cut the tension in the air with a knife as it seemed like an eternity passed by. And then the screen flashed green and Rachel let out a small yelp, followed by a sigh of relief.

“Puck.”

“Bring it on!” The football player said as Will tapped his picture and then hit the access results button on the screen. No doubt Puck seemed a little bit overly confident. Though given how only one of them really got to participate in the second test, no one should have been so confident. Unless of course they were the mole.

The screen flashed green. Puck was safe and it was only after the fact that he let out a breath the others hadn’t known he was holding.

“Santana.” Will tapped on the Latina’s picture. “Are you ready for you results?” he asked.

“Just do it,” she said, not able to withstand the tension. Moments later, the screen flashed green and she relaxed.

“Kurt.”

Beside the pale man, Blaine could see him visibly tense. He felt the urge to reach out and grab Kurt’s hand as Will tapped first his picture and then the access results button. But he refrained, merely because thoughts of a rule violation kept poking into his head. Would he get one for just holding the other man’s hand? He didn’t know. But it was probably a better idea that he didn’t test that theory.

Several tense moments later and the screen flashed green. Blaine was pleased when Kurt deflated, all the tension running out of his body. He was safe as well.

“Quinn.”

The model held her head high as her picture was tapped, followed by the access results. Though she wouldn’t admit it, if she was the first to go, Daniel was going to get an earful when she got home. But, he wouldn’t have to suffer that as the screen flashed green, marking her safe.

“Mike.”

Beside Mike, Tina hadn’t even entertained the possibility of a rule violation and she grabbed the man’s hand. Clearly there was something more there for her than just a competitor. And even though Blaine caught the gesture as well, he knew there wasn’t much he could say to her, not now during the execution. He might say something afterward though.

It seemed to be an eternity longer waiting for Mike’s results but then...the screen flashed red. Tina let out an anguished cry.

“Mike, please grab your bag and come with me,” Will said. Mike stood and followed him, his hand slipping from Tina’s as the girl tried not to sob too hard. Even if they had barely known each other, it was clear she felt some sort of connection.

“And the one who didn’t scream is the first to get the guillotine,” Santana remarked as Will lead Mike out. 

“I’m sorry to see you go so soon Mike. You could have had a promising run in the game,” Will said genuinely.

Mike chuckled lightly. “Yeah well, I guess being the quiet one doesn’t garner your chances of banking far. I didn’t have a lot to go on. But I had fun. And I wish the others the best of luck.”

The dancer climbed into the car. “Goodbye Mike,” Will said. “Safe trip home.” Mike waved out the window as the car pulled away.  
  
_Unfortunately, someone did have to be the first to go. Too bad it had to be him,_ thought the mole.


	3. Betting On Direction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this chapter last night, but it took me longer than expected and I didn't have time to finish my own editing and put it up until now. It came out a bit longer than I was expecting, but I hope it's good! Remember I am attempting to come up with the games on my own this time, just to make it more original. Comments and kudos make me smile. Happy reading!

“Mike was a quiet guy, perhaps too quiet as he became the mole’s first victim, leaving the game with eleven players, one crestfallen. Poor Tina had really taken a liking to him.” Will was standing in front of The Louvre. “But for the remaining players, play went on and they continued to answer that valuable question. Who is the mole?

“Twelve strangers, working together to reach a prize total of five hundred thousand dollars. But among them is a saboteur, a traitor, a double agent working for us to try and hinder the other players from banking the money. That person is the mole. Their task is simple. To win the money, they must answer one question. Who is the mole?

“Is it Kurt Hummel?

“Tina Cohen-Chang?

“Blaine Anderson?

“Quinn Fabray?

“Finn Hudson?

“Rachel Berry?

“Mercedes Jones?

“Noah Puckerman?

“Santana Lopez?

“Sam Evans?

“Or Brittany Pierce?”

Profiles flashed across the screen for the opening credits and when it got to Mike’s, the word ‘Executed’ had been stamped across his.

“I’m sure if you talk with producers they would be happy to put you in touch with him after the show,” Blaine was saying as he rubbed Tina’s back. She was sitting in the room he was sharing with Sam. Tears streamed her face over Mike’s execution. She had barely had a chance to get to know the guy.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Just because we aren’t supposed to have relationships while on camera, doesn’t mean they’re allowed to keep you from starting one after the show,” he added.

Tina sniffed a few times, throwing one arm around each of them and trying a three-way hug. “You guys are good. If either of you is the mole, I’ll be so upset.”

Sam awkwardly patted her shoulder from the angle he was standing. “Besides, if nothing else, you’ll see him again at the reveal. And you can get his information yourself then.”

Blaine hadn’t thought of that but Sam did have a point. Just because Mike had been executed, didn’t mean Tina would never see him again. All players would return for the reveal, regardless of when they were sent packing. He continued to rub Tina’s back as he and Sam continued to comfort her.

“I’m sorry,” Tina finally said after a while. “I didn’t know I would get so upset.” She laughed a little humorlessly.

“You like him,” Blaine said. “Plain and simple.”

“I do,” she replied. “I really really do.”

“Good morning players, Will said the next morning at breakfast. “Congratulations, you’ve all survived your first execution.” Cheers and applause went up around the table. “Tina, it looked like Mike’s execution was tough on you last night.”

Tina sighed and set her fork down. “Yeah,” she said. “I just felt a connection to him you know?”

Will nodded his head. “Do you think the mole targeted him right off the back?”

It was Quinn who answered him however. “I think it’s too early in the game for the mole to have any definitive targets. We haven’t had a chance to get to know each other well enough to know who we want to stay and who we don’t.”

_Actually, I already have one definitive target,_ thought the mole. _Not that I plan on taking them out this soon though._ _Let them believe they’re getting somewhere a bit first._

“Fair enough,” Will replied. “Are you all ready for today’s test?” he asked next. There were a few murmurs around the table. Clearly, they were all still adjusting to the rhythm of the game. “Right, I want you to work together and choose three people with good sense of direction.”

Before there was much discussion, Kurt immediately raised his hand. “I can be one. I’m fluent in French so if there’s any money riding on this, which there likely is, you can count on me to bank it.” The others nodded.

After a few more moments they had their decision. “So who are my people with good sense of direction?” Will asked. Kurt, Santana, and Mercedes all raised their hands. “Very well, the three of you follow me. The rest of you wait here.”

They got up and followed Will out to the front of the hotel where three separate cars waited. It was clear the three of them were not going together wherever they were going.

“Kurt, Santana, Mercedes,” Will said. “In a moment, you’re going to each get in one of these cars. They will take you to three separate locations in the city. Your task is to use the map provided to find your way back to the hotel. You will have exactly an hour to do so. For every one of you who succeeds, I’ll add ten thousand dollars to the pot, for a total of thirty thousand dollars. There is just one catch.” The three of them glanced at each other. “We can’t have you routing the direction your driver is taking you so you’ll be wearing one of these.” He held up a blindfold.

“Ooohhh,” the three of them all chorused.

“Of course,” Santana said with a roll of her eyes.

Will handed one blindfold to each of them. “Go ahead and put these on now and I will guide each of you to one of the cars.” They did and Will lead Kurt to the first car, Santana to the second car, and Mercedes to the third. “Remember, you will have one hour to find your way back. Your time starts as soon as you get out of the car. Good luck.” The cars drove away.

“What do you think they have to direct?” Brittany asked, back at the breakfast table. “A short film? A play? A TV show?” It was clear the girl had misunderstood the challenge. It wasn’t that kind of direction. However, the other players weren’t sure how to best correct her. The one person who seemed to already perfect the art of talking to the girl was out on the challenge, whatever it was.

“Not that kind of direction Brit,” Quinn said gently, patting the girl’s arm. “They’re probably going to be reading maps.”

Brittany regarded her for a moment. “Ooohhh,” she finally said. But that was the only response she gave Quinn.

It was then that Will came back in. “Alright, if the rest of you will please follow me.” They got up and followed him out of the room. He lead them into another room with a giant TV screen in front of a long table. “Have a seat,” he said. They all sat down. Each person had a small piece of paper and a pencil. “If you will all write Kurt, Santana, and Mercedes’ names down on your papers please.”

“Any specific way?” Finn asked. Will shook his head.

“Just make sure you have a little space. In front of you is a TV screen. In a moment, it’s going to show you live feed of the other players. Each of them has been driven to a different part of the city. Their task is to find their own way back to the hotel. They have an hour. For each of them that succeeds, I’ll add ten thousand dollars to the pot for a total of thirty thousand dollars. Now, here is your chance to earn up to twenty-four thousand dollars more. On your papers, beside each player’s name, I want you to guess whether they will or will not succeed. For every guess that’s right, I’ll give you another thousand dollars. Guess wrong and you earn nothing. Go ahead and make your guesses now.”

It was oddly quiet in the room as everyone sat there attempting to decide whether Kurt, Santana, and Mercedes would succeed. Losing money for a wrong guess was a high price to pay.

After a moment, Will spoke again. “Hold up, if you guys can decide as a group which of you gets it, I will give three thousand dollars to the pot regardless of whether their guesses are right or wrong if you can choose one person to receive an exemption.”

The room was quiet for several moments, each of them regarding one another carefully. It was clear that no one really wanted to nominate anyone, even if it did mean they would get a guaranteed three thousand dollars. At this stage in the game, everyone was still a suspect and it didn’t matter what they might have already gone through, there was no way they felt each other deserved one this early.

“I think I should get it,” Rachel suddenly said, raising one hand. Everyone looked at her. None of them seemed to feel the same.

“You are the last person here who deserves a free ride,” Quinn said, narrowing her eyes at the shorter girl. Rachel looked appalled, as if she couldn’t believe anyone wouldn’t agree with her.

It was Finn who stood from the table and addressed Will after several moments. “You said it had to be unanimous and I’m sorry Rachel, but not everyone wants to give it to you, so I guess that means no one will get it.”

“Very well, this exemption is no longer on the table,” Will said as Finn sat down again.

Rachel patted Finn’s hand, even if she was partially thinking she should have gotten that exemption. What if one of the two of them went home? But she was outnumbered so she just went along with the group.

“If you’ll all pass your papers to me and turn your eyes on the screen. You’re about to see the fruits of your companions’ efforts.” Will collected everyone’s papers and left the room.

Kurt had been dropped off in the middle of a small narrow street with beautiful French architecture standing high on either side. The first thing he needed to do was find a street name. Then he could plot the point on the map and see where he was as opposed to their hotel. He wasted no time walking down to one end of the small street but he found no street sign there. So he turned around and walked to the other end. However, there wasn’t one there either.

“Perfect,” Kurt muttered. “Leave the French speaking one in a place with no French to read. Guess I should just go the direction nearest busier streets.” It wasn’t like he could walk the opposite direction the car was going. The rules stated that he has to wait until the car was gone before he could take the blindfold off. This challenge was certainly not going to be as easy as he expected, but he wasn’t really surprised.

Santana found herself standing in front of the most iconic landmark in all of Paris. The Eiffel Tower. She remembered what the hotel looked like. If she could find a way to go up in the Eiffel Tower, she could spot it and see just what direction she needed to travel in, to get there. The problem was, she didn’t have any money.

Spotting a small family, she hurried over to them. “Do you…” What was the word Kurt had used for speak? “Pearl English?” Eh, close enough.

“Do we speak English?” The woman said, a British accent lilting her words and Santana almost died at her luck.

“Yes!” she blurted. “Sorry. Look, I’m lost and I don’t have any money. I know where I need to go and what it looks like. Do you think you could get me a ticket up to the observatory please? I only have an hour to make it there.” Of course, her politeness was totally not Santana and she knew that, but she also knew if she didn’t play nice, she wasn’t going to find help.

The woman looked surprised. “On foot? No one gave you the means of taking a vehicle or other transport?” Santana shook her head. “Perhaps we could drive you.” Again, Santana shook her head.

“I wish,” she said. “But I’m playing a game and rules say I have to get back on foot.”

The family gave her a peculiar look but ultimately agreed to help her get to the observatory and she thanked them over and over in Spanish.

Back at the hotel, the remaining players were now watching their efforts on the TV screen and they were applauding Santana’s quick thinking. Some of them were definitely worried a bit about Kurt because he didn’t have the starting point he thought he had.

“Do some of those narrow streets just not have names?” Puck had asked. No one had an answer for him.

Mercedes was dropped off in front of a sidewalk cafe. “Kurt would have loved this,” she said to herself. Her first thought was to go into the cafe and point out the hotel on the map to ask directions. But that was shutdown when she noticed the place was closed. The hours marked it closed on Sundays. “And today just happens to be a Sunday,” she muttered in a slightly exaggerated tone.

“So far, Santana’s had the easiest start,” Quinn said. “She’ll make it back in no time.”

“Just because she’s off to a good start, doesn’t mean the rest of the task will be a piece of cake for her,” Rachel pointed out. “Sure, she has the easiest way to discover where to go, but she could also be the one who’s farthest away.”

_ Very observant Rachel. Keep that talk up and it could work in my favor. It’s quips like that, that will put people on your trail, _ thought the mole.

Finn glanced at Rachel. “Does that mean Kurt could be the closest?” he asked. The brunette girl shrugged. Just because easiest might be farthest, didn’t mean hardest might be closest.

“It could mean anything,” Sam stated. “Kurt could be all the way on the other side of the city for all we know!”

It was Blaine who responded, giving his head a shake. “No. They only have an hour. It takes two to cross the city on foot at a regular pace. They’d have to be moving double time.”

“Are we even on one end of the city?” Finn asked.

Tina, who had remained quiet thus far, arched an eyebrow. “End of the city? Really Finn? Who says that?”

Rachel scowled at her. “Just because your man was executed, doesn’t mean you can be rude to mine!”

The whole room elapsed into silence, momentarily forgetting about the TV as they all stared at Rachel, who upon realizing what she had just said, turned a bright red, which said something against her normally tan complexion. Finn stared at her the longest, mouth slowly dropping open and eyes going round and wide as saucers.

“I mean um...I’m not here,” Rachel got out lamely, ducking behind the table and effectively making herself look smaller.

“Look! The dolphin is running!” Brittany’s odd interruption was just the thing needed to snap them all out of it. In his corner of the screen, Kurt was running at top speed down a sidewalk and continuously looking over his shoulder.

Puck stood so quickly, he knocked the table. “Fuck! I think he’s in trouble!” The others all stared steadfastly at the screen for a moment, until the camera caught what Kurt was running from.

A mime.

“That’s trouble alright,” Blaine deadpanned. They all looked at him. “Do you know how hard it is to get away from a mime who wants your attention as they climb a rope and try to escape a box? His hands are saying he’s not done, come back! Kurt doesn’t have time for that.” He chuckled. Though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to be there for Kurt to run right into and save the day.

“Man, Kurt just is having the worst luck on this test. Maybe he won’t make it back in time,” Finn said.

_ Maybe the mime was paid as a distraction intentionally, _ the mole thought, snickering inside their head.

Kurt came to a stop, hands on his knees and breathing heavily. He had taken several sharp turns to get away from the annoying performer. The problem now was, he had no idea where he was or how far he was from the hotel. He pulled out his map and noticed a couple of people standing nearby.

“Excuse moi,” he said, the lilt of his high-pitched voice offering a nice air to his French. He continued in perfect French, asking the group if they knew the quickest way back to the hotel. He pointed it out on the map.

“You are Amereecan, no?” said one of the men.

“Oui. Oui, Je suis Américain,” he replied. The man stepped forward and placed a hand on his back, looking down at his map. “Pouvez-vous m'aider?” Kurt then asked.

“Yes,” the man said in heavily accented English, but Kurt found he had no trouble understanding him. “I can help you. But eef you want to geet to zis ‘otel, you ‘ave to go back zee uzzer way,” he went on.

Kurt let out a groan. The man looked confused. “I’m sorry,” the pale man replied in English. “But there is a mime back that way and I just don’t have the time for him to be distracting me.

It was at this point, the other people stepped up beside the man. “Go,” the man said in his heavy accent. “We weel take care of ze mime for you.” Kurt nodded, already grateful to the people of Paris. Even though he was still tired, he knew he was going to have to run to make up time. He cut back a different way than before, just to make sure he didn’t run into the mime on his way back.

“Kurt’s not the only one having trouble,” Quinn commented, her eyes now fixed on Santana. They all turned to see what was up with the Latina girl.

She was standing in the observatory in the Eiffel Tower with a group of people. The bad news here, the elevator back down had suddenly malfunctioned, leaving them all stranded at the top. This was certainly not what she had been expecting when she had taken this option.

“Do you have any idea how long this will take? I have an appointment to make,” she spit out at the mechanic. She was done playing nice and being the Santana that she wasn’t.

The mechanic mumbled something in French that she couldn’t understand and she turned to look at the British family that had been kind enough to help her get up there in the first place.

“What did he say?” she asked, not really sure she wanted to know the answer. The expression on the woman’s face was enough to confirm to Santana that she was right. She didn’t really want to know the answer at all.

“He said, it’s going to take time. If you’re in such a hurry to get back down, you can take the stairs.” She hesitated a moment. “And he may have called you a wench.”

That didn’t sit well with the Latina. First of all, there were like, a billion stairs to run down and even being a professional cheerleader, it was going to take time and effort on her part, time and effort she didn’t have. Secondly, no one called her a wench. Especially not some low life mechanic who didn’t even know how to fix a dang elevator.

“I swear to God mole, if this is your doing…” she whispered to herself, trailing off. She ended up just throwing her hands in the air and making for the stairs. At this point, she didn’t really have any other choice, especially if she wanted to even have a chance of making it back on time.

Meanwhile, Mercedes was meandering down the street on which she’d been dropped off, trying to find any of the nearby street names on the map. “This city is a maze,” she stated as a sudden gust of wind blew the map up into her face. She let out a frustrated noise. “The only locale I’ve found so far is the hotel. But where in the world, am I?”

“I don’t think there’s really anything that can hold up Mercedes,” Blaine stated, with a shake of his head. “Unfortunately, she seems to be doing a good job holding herself up by not being able to pinpoint her own position on the map.”

That gave everyone food for thought. Was Mercedes really having that much trouble finding herself on the map, or was she purposefully disregarding her own place and delaying herself to keep money from going into the pot?

“That’s mole activity if I ever saw it!” Rachel called out, voicing what most of them in the room had been thinking at Blaine’s statement. She’d come back out from hiding behind the table.

Suddenly, all three cameras went out, cutting the players’ view of all three of their comrades.

“Hey!” Puck shouted! “It was just getting good!”

“Maybe it’s a bad connection?” Finn suggested, getting up from his spot to go over to the TV to see if he could fix it.

But it wasn’t a bad connection, because they’d been cut for a minor reason. Kurt rounded a bend to find Will seated at a table outside a small coffee shop.  
  
“Hello Kurt,” he said. “Have a seat for a moment.” Kurt wasn’t sure where this was going but he did as he was told. “I’m here to make you an offer. While you, Santana, and Mercedes were being dropped off in the city, the rest of the players were taking bets on whether the three of you would succeed. The majority of them bet that you would succeed,” he said.

“Okay…” the pale man started hesitantly. He had to be going somewhere with this.

Will let a sly grin cross his face. “Here’s what they didn’t know. The player with the most bets to succeed, would be offered an exemption. Now here’s the catch, the exemption will cost you the possible ten thousand dollars you would add to the pot by getting back before the hour is up and nobody will win any money for their bet on you, regardless of whether it was you will, or you won’t. However, should you choose to forfeit that money in exchange for an exemption, you and I will get in that car and drive straight back to the hotel.”

Kurt knew there had to be something here. The question was, should he take the exemption this early in the game? The obvious choice was probably yes. Because in his current position, he had absolutely no way of taking notes on the other players. He was isolated in this test, as were Santana and Mercedes. All three of them would be on the same playing field for the next quiz, while the others would be on a higher level because they would have had more time to observe each other. And it wasn’t like you weren’t allowed to try for more exemptions later in the game. Particularly when they were most crucial.

So after some thought, the pale man nodded. “Deal,” he said.

“Just to clarify, you are taking the exemption and forfeiting ten thousand dollars as well as disqualifying every bet on you, correct?”

“Yes,” Kurt said, hoping this wouldn’t come back to bite him. Though maybe by making this move, others would think he was the mole. Getting people to believe you were the mole was always the best way to knock other players out of the game.

He and Will shook hands and then Will lead him to the car.

Back at the hotel, Finn had given up on trying to fix the TV. He honestly couldn’t find anything broken.

“What do we do now?” Tina asked.

“I guess we just wait,” Finn replied.

About fifteen minutes went by, with the cameras still out and none of them having any idea how their fellow players were doing. That was when Will walked into the room.

“Seems awfully quiet in here players.”

“The signal cut,” Quinn said. “We can’t see anything.”

“Well, I do know what happened to one of them,” the host replied. He looked behind him and Kurt walked into the room. There were cheers. “Yes, well done Kurt, you did return before the hour was up.” He paused for more cheers. “But…” and the room went suddenly silent. “There was a little catch the rest of you didn’t know about.”

“Oh boy, here we go,” Puck said, dropping his face in his hands.

Will walked over to the TV. “The power was purposely cut. I think there’s been some molish activity back here.” He held up what looked like a split cord. “Kurt, why don’t you tell everyone what happened?”

Kurt drew a breath. “Well, I found Will sitting at a coffee shop and he told me that the majority of you had bet that I would be successful. And then he said because of that, he was offering me an exemption.” Groans went up around the room.

“Did you take it?” Rachel asked eagerly.

The pale man paused for a beat. “Yes,” he said finally.

“Because Kurt accepted the exemption,” Will said, “Ten thousand dollars for his on time arrival will not be added to the pot, leaving it at nineteen thousand dollars. Also, none of your bets on him will count, so the pot remains at nineteen thousand dollars, making this challenge now worth a total of thirty-six thousand dollars. A possible ten thousand from the two remaining players with good sense of direction, and a possible sixteen thousand from your bets on them.”

More groans, and a few people eyed Kurt suspiciously.

“Only the mole would take an exemption knowing they were keeping a possible eighteen thousand dollars from going into the pot!” Rachel bit out.

“On the other hand,” Quinn said, “The mole wouldn’t need an exemption because they are guaranteed safety. There is more than one way for the mole to sabotage this test.”

“On the third hand,” Finn started and fumbled a moment because his statement was a bit weird. “The mole could take the exemption to make us think they weren’t the mole and throw us off their trail so we would guess wrong and get executed and maybe I’m confusing myself.” He sat down heavily, staring at the staticky screen of the TV.

Will brought them all around again. “Perhaps we should see how the other two are doing now,” he said and with the flip of a switch, everything was back up and running. Mercedes was still studying her map. She hadn’t seemed to change much other than her surroundings. Santana however was currently running through the parking lot of the hotel.

“Is she going to make it?” Brittany asked. Will had already left the room and no one had even seen him go.

Out front, Will stood on the hotel steps as Santana jogged up to him. She bent over double, trying to catch her breath. Her hair was out of its ponytail and she was sweating profusely, as if she had run a long way.

“Congratulations Santana,” Will said. “You have made it in time. Ten thousand dollars will be added to the pot.” The Latina let out a small whoop, barely having the energy to celebrate. “Let’s go inside and see how the others did.”

He lead the woman back into the hotel and to the room where she noticed Kurt was already sitting, along with the other eight players. However, Mercedes was nowhere in sight and her feed showed she might not be anytime soon.

“Hello Santana!” Brittany said brightly, clapping her hands, elated to see the other woman.

“Hi Brit-Brit,” Santana replied, still trying to catch her breath.

Will clasped his hands behind his back. “Santana, you have succeeded in the task and earned ten thousand dollars for the pot, while Kurt, who was offered an exemption forfeited the money to take it.” Santana stared at him for a moment. “But there’s more. Santana, the rest of the players took bets on whether or not you would be successful. For every person who bet you would succeed, I will add another thousand dollars to the pot. Santana…” He paused here and she looked at him expectantly. “Six out of eight people bet that you would succeed, making your grand total, sixteen thousand dollars added to the pot and bringing it up to thirty-five thousand dollars. Well done!”

Cheers and applause filled the room, because Santana had done well, though she still regarded Kurt with a critical eye.

Will looked at his watch. “Seeing as the time is now up, a car has been sent to collect Mercedes.”

It was only a matter of minutes then that Mercedes returned. Will placed a hand on her shoulder as she entered the room, to encouragement from the others, trying to help her feel better for her effort.

“Mercedes, as you know, you did not succeed in making it back within the hour, so ten thousand dollars will not go into the pot. Let’s see how the other players bet you would do.” He hesitated another moment. “Four out of eight people bet that you would not succeed, which puts four thousand dollars into the pot and with Kurt’s bought exemption from tomorrow’s execution, it brings the current total to thirty-nine thousand dollars.” There were some groans around the table. “Get some rest and prepare because tomorrow is another day with another game to play.”

They all stood and made their way out of the room, still casting suspicious looks at everyone. No one was entirely spared from being a suspect.


	4. The Second Execution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the shortest chapter so far, at just under 4000 words. Apologies if there are any mistakes, I kept dozing off when I was doing my editing. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the second execution chapter. Comments and kudos make me smile!

“I just don’t know why you thought you really needed that exemption,” Finn said with a shake of his head and a shrug of his shoulders. He was pacing across the hotel room he and Kurt were sharing. Though admittedly, it might have made Finn just a little bit on edge, he’d quickly come to decide that Kurt was a better roommate than he could hope for.

Kurt was sitting on the bed closest to the window, staring out of it at the nighttime skyline. He let out a breath as he turned to look at Finn. “Because Finn, put yourself in my place. You spent the entire test with seven of the other players, plenty of time to observe them. Santana, Mercedes, and I, we were isolated for that time. We had no idea how each other was doing or what anyone else was doing.”

Finn was quiet for a moment, trying to process the information. He dropped onto the other bed, still thinking to himself.

“That’s ample time for observing people lost,” Kurt added.

After a beat, Finn nodded. He got where Kurt was coming from. “So you decided it was safer to take the exemption, than risk not having enough information in tomorrow night’s quiz,” he said, effectively putting into words that he understood Kurt’s standing in this.

“Exactly,” the pale man replied.

What Finn wasn’t saying was that part of this interrogation was for his own piece of mind. His suspicions had landed on Kurt because of the fact that the pale man had taken the exemption, and the note that he had made earlier about the mole taking one to make them look like they weren’t the mole. Another point in that thought was that the mole could take the exemption so no one else would have a chance at it and then they would all be at risk for execution. The only issue with that notion, was the fact that there was probably going to be another chance to win an exemption in the next test.

Kurt looked at the taller man, wondering what was turning in the wheels in his head. He was well aware that Finn might be suspicious of him. But let him be. Let him be suspicious of him. As much as he liked Finn, if his suspicion of him lead to his execution, than it worked out in Kurt’s favor, because that was one more person out of his way of winning the money at the end.

“Who do you think the mole is?” Finn suddenly asked, drawing Kurt out of his musings.

The pale man was quiet for a beat. “I’m not entirely sure yet,” he said. Actually, that was a lie, but he didn’t want to share too much with someone he didn’t know very well. Finn wouldn’t be his first choice for a coalition partner. He had his suspicions. “But I don’t think it’s Rachel.”

Finn seemed relieved to hear that Kurt was not suspecting Rachel. It was clear that maybe he had some sort of feelings towards her just like she had towards him and it was hard knowing the person you liked might be the one person you couldn’t trust. But Kurt’s reasoning for not suspecting Rachel was not something that he felt he should tell Finn. She obviously was off their suspect lists for different reasons.

“Good morning players,” Will spoke cheerfully at the breakfast table the next morning.

“How are you always so cheerful?” Puck asked, yawning as he attempted to spread butter on a biscuit. Will just gave him a smile. “Thank you Captain Obvious for proving my point,” the man with the mohawk added.

Will once again, made it a point to ignore the insult. “I trust you all had a good night.” Murmurs went up around the table as everyone agreed or disagreed. “Well, last night, the mole may have had everyone’s room bugged.”

The players all looked at each other.

“What do you mean bugged?” Sam asked. Whatever it meant, it couldn’t be good.

“I mean the mole was listening in on everyone’s conversation last night and it seems quite a few of you have the same person low on your suspect list.” His eyes fell on Rachel. “Rachel, you are the person most players suspect the least of being the mole.” She was surprised and Kurt and Finn glanced at each other. Where was this going. “Because of that,” Will continued. “You are the only one who will have the chance to earn an exemption from tonight’s execution.”

“Damnit,” Santana muttered under her breath. Everyone knew that she and Mercedes needed the other exemption badly. They were both in the same boat Kurt had been and while she wouldn’t outright admit it, Santana would have forfeited her money for the exemption too. Though she couldn’t say the same for Mercedes. The girl seemed too genuine to want to keep money from going into the pot. Plus, she might have seen it as unfair as she’d already received the first exemption of the game.

As for Rachel, while she wasn’t exactly pleased that no one suspected her, the fact that she would be the only one with the chance to win the exemption, did make up for feeling like she wasn’t molish enough to be on anyone’s radar. She could really use the exemption.

“What do I have to do?” she asked, looking back at Will.

The host grinned. “A little target practice. If you will all follow me.” He got up from the table and the players all glanced at each other before following suit.

He lead them to some open grounds upon which stood a table laden with ceramic pots. The players once more glanced at each other and a few of them had an idea what was going to happen here.

Will came to a stop beside the table. And pulled a cloth off an object they hadn’t noticed before. It looked like a miniature cannon.

“Upon this table are one hundred ceramic pots,” Will began. “Fifty of them hold one thousand dollars and ten of them have an exemption. They other forty are empty.” He glanced at Rachel and picked up a pellet gun. “Rachel, as you might have already realized, you will be the shooter. To earn the exemption, all you have to do is successfully shoot one of the ten pots that holds the exemption.”

Rachel had a slight frown on her face. She’d never fired any weapon before, not even a laser gun for laser tag. That stuff wasn’t her kind of thing. And now she was going to be relied on for putting money in the bank.

“In addition,” Will went on. “For every pot you successfully shoot with money in it, I will add one thousand dollars to the pot. This test is worth a total of fifty thousand dollars. Any pots you miss or don’t manage to load will not be counted.” He turned to the other players. “The rest of you will be taking turns loading the cannon. Ten pots per player.” He handed the pellet gun to Rachel. “You have forty-five minutes to fire as many pots as you can. Remember in order to count, they have to full break apart in the air. Talk amongst yourselves and decide who will be firing first.”

The group looked at each other. “Okay,” Puck started. “We don’t necessarily have to aim, she does. But maybe if Finn, Sam, and I go first, we’ll get through more than a quarter in less time. Because we’re strong.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think those pots are very heavy. They’re quite small. It’s not about how strong you are, but how fast you are loading and firing.”

“Maybe we should just go boy-girl,” Mercedes suggested. No one protested.

“Alright players,” Will said a moment later. “If you’re ready, take your places.” Puck took position at the cannon anyway, deciding he would go first and Rachel went to stand on the mark. She was clearly nervous. “One more thing I forgot to mention. If you manage to fire all the pots in forty-five minutes, I will double the amount you successfully bank, making this game now worth a total of one hundred thousand dollars.”

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that they wanted that money. However, it was Rachel’s job to earn it. Not any of theirs.

“Players in position! Your forty-five minutes starts now!” Puck wasted no time loading the first ceramic pot into the cannon. To her credit, despite being completely out of her element, Rachel actually fired at it. She missed but surprisingly not by much.

“I think I can get the hang of this,” she said to herself and this time she was better prepared for the pot that shot out of the cannon. She hit the target. Unfortunately, it was one of the empty ones. The one she missed landed on the ground and was also empty.

“That’s two empty pots down!” Will called out from where he was standing off to the side, well out of harm's way. Thirty-eight empty pots remain!”

By the end of Puck’s turn at the cannon, Rachel had hit six out of ten pots, three were empty. Three held money. Of the four she missed, two were empty, one held money and one held an exemption.

“Four thousand dollars fired, three earned. Forty-six thousand dollars left to hit. Five empty pots fired, thirty-five left. One exemption pot fired, and nine remaining. Not too bad so far guys!” Will called.

Quinn was up next, loading the cannon one pot at a time. But she seemed to be loading it just a little too quickly and Rachel was finding it harder to keep up with aiming as often more than one pot was in the air at the same time. In the end, she only hit three. All three were empty. Of the other seven, three had cash, one had an exemption and three were empty.

“No money won in that round of ten,” Will stated. “Forty-three thousand dollars still left to hit. Eight exemptions remain. And twenty-nine empty pots. Chances are looking greater that you will hit money. However, fifteen minutes have passed since the start of the challenge. Unless you move a little quicker, you’ll only get through sixty pots by the end of the challenge.”

Rachel glared at him. “What do you expect me to do? Fire aimlessly like a nervous chicken about to have its head cut off?” She immediately looked appalled by her own simile. Being Vegan, Rachel didn’t much like the idea of chickens getting their heads cut off. Also, if she fired like one, she was a lot less likely to hit anything.

Finn came out from where he was standing behind the cannon ready for his turn to fire his ten and walked over to Rachel. But Will’s voice stopped him.

“Any time you take to encourage her Finn wastes time that you could be earning money.” The tall man frowned.

“Dude, seriously?”

“You heard the man pyramid nipples,” Santana said.

Kurt gave Finn a look. “In the mole, there are no excuses for pauses in time,” he said. “The mole makes no excuses.”

Mercedes crossed her arms over her chest. “The mole is probably grinning to themselves right now because we’re just standing around losing more money.”

Sam, who had been mostly quiet at this point, stepped forward. “Finn, just come back. I’ll fire the cannon.” He looked at Rachel. “Rachel, just do your best, okay?” he said. Not wanting to waste anymore time, the blonde guy loaded a pot into the cannon. Finn returned to the group, muttering to himself about playing fair. Kurt, who’d overheard him felt like if he had wanted to play fair, he shouldn’t have applied for the show in the first place.

_ It’s a shame some people don’t realize the most obvious points in this game, _ the mole thought.  _ Maybe it’s time to teach them one more lesson. _

Unbeknown to everyone, as they were all focused on watching Rachel try and hit more pots, someone casually knocked into the table. Three of the pots fell off it.

“Hold it!” Will shouted as Sam loaded another pot into the cannon. “He pointed at the ground beside the table where the three pots lay broken. Two with money and one with an exemption. “Did I forget to mention that any pots broken without being fired is a one thousand dollar penalty for each pot?” The others all gaped at him. “Three pots broken from falling off the table. That’s a loss of three thousand dollars and seeing as Rachel has yet to successfully hit anymore money pots, it brings you down to a total of zero dollars earned for this test. And you have fifteen minutes left.”

Rachel gritted her teeth, her anger lit a fire in her and she successfully broke the next four pots, all of which contained money.

_ Darn it, _ thought the mole. Of course, it wouldn’t be smart to knock the table a second time.

Santana was up next to fire and Rachel was still angry about losing money that she only missed one of Santana’s ten pots, which turned out to be empty. However, out of the nine she managed to hit, she added another six thousand dollars to the pot, making the total ten thousand dollars.

“Well done Rachel,” Will said. “You also managed to hit an exemption!” Santana muttered a curse under her breath as the host picked up the chip from the ground. “Which means you cannot be executed tonight. And good thing too, because your time is up. Out of one hundred pots, you fired forty of them in time and banked yourselves a total of ten thousand dollars out of a possible one hundred thousand dollars for this game, bringing the grand total of the pot up to forty-nine thousand dollars.” Again, there was another groan. They really needed to step up their game and start earning money. “Tonight you face your second execution. Kurt and Rachel have both earned exemptions so they cannot be executed. See you all tonight.”

As the group dispersed, the argument started. “If you hadn’t been so intent to stop what you were doing to go encourage her while the clock was running, we could have fired more pots!” Santana accused Finn.

“Someone had to! She was ready to give up!” Finn defended.

The Latina glowered at him. “Do you even realize that doing that in the middle of a timed challenge makes you look like you’re the mole? In which case, you’re not doing a good job of being one!”

“How do we know you’re not the mole Santana?!” Finn shouted back.

“Oh please!” Santana retorted, rolling her eyes. “As if I would break down an elevator on purpose.”

“How do we know you didn’t?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I got back on time didn’t I?”

“Clever diversion. Well done mole,” Finn stated, his tone taking on a tone unlike he had ever used so far. He sounded sarcastic.

Santana snorted. “Well done Frankenstein, you discovered sarcasm. I don’t need this.” She stalked away, leaving Finn positively glowering after her.

That night at dinner, the tension could be cut with a butter knife. Finn and Santana sat on opposite ends of the table from each other. And now even Kurt was a bit miffed, because he’d had a bit of a disagreement with Finn in their room, something about being the mediator and he just was not going to play that way. He liked Finn, really really did, but he didn’t like the idea of having to pass messages back and forth between him and Santana.

The whole table was silent as Will addressed them. “Good evening players. I understand there’s been some increased tension.” There was a snort from Santana’s end of the table. “Something you’d like to say, Santana?” he asked.

“No. Anything I have left to say won’t be any nicer than what was said earlier.” She gave Finn a glowering eye, an action the man tried to ignore.

“Right,” Will said, clearing his throat to try and get things back on track. Brittany, who was sitting next to Santana, patted the Latina’s hand, bringing a rare smile from the other woman. “Tonight you face your second execution. Kurt and Rachel have earned exemptions and therefore, they cannot be executed tonight,” he went on. The two players gave each other relieved looks, and as they did so, Kurt caught Blaine’s eye. The gel haired man was smiling softly at him, an action that brought a light blush to the pale man’s cheeks.

It was oddly quiet for the next few moments. No one said a word, not even Will. There were two people at the table who really wanted each other to go. And being angry was never a way to go into a quiz. It could harbor bad results. Though that could be another molish tactic. Stress someone out and they will answer poorly. Of course, no one dared to voice this opinion.

Finally, Will raised his glass. “A toast to you and our evicted player, whomever they may be.” The rest of them all half-heartedly raised their glasses to toast the soon-to-be fallen player.

One by one, they went in to take the quiz. Ten questions about the mole.

Question One: Is the mole male or female?

Question Two: In the Betting on Direction game, did the mole have a good sense of direction?

Question Three: Did the mole return within the hour time limit?

Question Four: Did the mole vote for the other players to succeed or not?

Question Five: In the Target Practice game, did the mole shoot pots?

Question Six: Did the mole take their turn loading the cannon in the Target Practice game?

Question Seven: Did the mole earn an exemption?

Question Eight: What is the mole’s birthday?

Question Nine: What color hair does the mole have?

Question Ten: Who is the mole?

When the last player had made their last click, results were in and the eleven players filed into seats on the grounds where they had shot pots. All of their duffles, aside from Kurt’s and Rachel’s were neatly lined up.

Before them, Will stood beside the TV with the mole logo, patiently waiting for them to get settled.

“Good evening and welcome to your second execution,” he said. “The player who scored the lowest on the quiz will be executed. In the event of a tie, the player who answered the questions in the slowest time, will be executed. In a moment, I will tap your picture on the screen to gain access to your results. If the screen turns green, you are safe and can continue playing. If the screen turns red, you are the mole’s second victim. You must take your bag and leave the game immediately. Kurt and Rachel, you earned exemptions, which means you cannot be executed tonight. Before we begin, I must tell you that tonight, we have a tie.” They all glanced at one another, Santana eyeing Finn warily. “Would anyone like to go first?”

Sam raised his hand a moment later. “I’ll go.”

“Sam.”

Will tapped his picture on the screen and then the access results button that popped up a moment later. The blonde waited with his breath held. The tension rose and the screen flashed green some moments later. Sam relaxed.

“Mercedes.”

This was the first time the girl had been up for execution and given that she was one of the three with a good sense of direction, she was worried about how she had done. She and Santana both had less information. Kurt would have too, if not for the fact that he had an exemption.

She watched Will tap her picture and like Sam, held her breath as he hit the results button. The screen flashed green moments later and she nearly let out a choked sob of relief. Clearly, the drama had been a good enough show.

“Quinn,” Will said next.

The blonde felt someone squeeze her hand and noted Puck next to her. She hadn’t realized he had even grabbed her hand. They both waited in silence together until once again, the screen flashed green. Quinn was safe.

“Puck.”

Admittedly, Puck tried to hide his nerve when it was his turn. He liked to think that he was as tough against possible execution as he was with everything else. But he was just as nervous, maybe more so even. Tension rose again.

The screen flashed green. No one failed to notice when the mohawk man relaxed.

“Tina.”

Tina’s worst fear at that moment was being the one to follow Mike out the door. As much as it hurt that he was gone, the thought of not staying hurt even more. She didn’t realize that she was gripping the edges of her chair with both of her hands.

“Are you ready for your results?” Will asked.

Tina swallowed. “Not sure any of us can ever be really ready, but...go on.”

Will nodded and tapped her picture. Tina cringed just a little at the photo. It wasn’t one of her best. The host tapped the button to access her results. The wait felt like an eternity and she never wanted to feel this way again. Though, she might not get what she wanted while she was still in the game. The screen flashed green and the woman sank back in her seat.

“Finn.”

Everyone noticed Santana perking up at the same time as Finn, both perhaps wanting the opposite of what the other wanted. The tension was so incredibly strong between them. There was no doubt that the majority of the room was also hoping something would happen that would just end the silly feud. Something that would kiss the drama goodbye.

It was so quiet as Will tapped Finn’s picture, that Kurt swore he could hear the sound of the man’s finger touching the screen. He and Blaine glanced at each other then and the pale man had a notion that the other might have heard it too. He made a point to go talk to Blaine later, assuming he was still there.

The host tapped the access results button and then, they waited. They waited. And they waited some more.

The screen flashed red.

“Finn, please grab your bag and come with me.” Rachel’s mouth dropped open as she watched the tall man get up from his chair, his face looking defeated. To her credit, Santana actually wasn’t smirking. Sure she had hoped he would be gone, but that was classic Santana whenever she fought with someone. She hadn’t expected him to actually be gone. Her eyes fell on Rachel, who had moved to stare at her.

“Oh, if looks could kill,” Santana muttered. Brittany, who was once again seated beside her, patted her hand reassuringly.

“It’s okay Sanny,” the other woman said.

“Thank you Brit,” she replied quietly.

Will lead Finn out to the awaiting car. “Any last words Finn? I’m pretty sure this wasn’t part of your plan.”

Finn sighed. “I let my anger at someone else cloud my judgment. In the end, I don’t think I even really paid attention to what I was marking on the quiz. It felt like I was reading the questions, but I wasn’t absorbing them.”

“Sometimes these things can get the best of you,” Will said. “It’s been great having you Finn. have a safe trip home.”

“Thanks,” Finn said, climbing into the car. He waved goodbye as it drove off.  
  
_ Guess I was wrong in my own judgment tonight. Sorry Finn, _ thought the mole.


	5. Test of Willpower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long guys. I've been really busy with a near full schedule at work and haven't had much motivation to type type type. But I finally finished it tonight! And I still have 2 full days off of work so with any luck, maybe I'll get another chapter out too!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos make me smile! Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I took one of the challenges in this chapter from a show called Solitary. So while I didn't make that challenge up myself, I didn't take it from The Mole.

“The headline of the Hudson News had just dropped and Finn was bidding an early goodbye to the game, becoming the mole’s second victim,” came Will’s introduction from the grounds. “Ten players remained in the game, all one step closer to answering that question. Who is the mole?

“Twelve strangers, working together to reach a prize total of five hundred thousand dollars. But among them is a saboteur, a traitor, a double agent working for us to try and hinder the other players from banking the money. That person is the mole. Their task is simple. To win the money, they must answer one question. Who is the mole?

“Is it Kurt Hummel?

“Tina Cohen-Chang?

“Blaine Anderson?

“Quinn Fabray?

“Rachel Berry?

“Mercedes Jones?

“Noah Puckerman?

“Santana Lopez?  
  
“Sam Evans?

“Or Brittany Pierce?”

When Finn’s profile flashed across the screen, the word “Executed” was now stamped across it, just like Mike’s.

With his room now down a person, Kurt was kind of taking advantage of the extra space. Not that he didn’t like Finn, but he did prefer to have his amenities to himself. He needed the extra bathroom time and trying to use the bathroom after Finn had been in there…

That didn’t mean he was necessarily enjoying the other man’s absence. He did genuinely like Finn as a person. He was a nice guy, and maybe not the brightest crayon in the box but he was really good with encouragement. It was kind of a surprise to Kurt to see him go so early in the game. But even in a game like The Mole, there were blindsides. Except in The Mole, everyone was blindsided because it wasn’t up to the players to decide who would go. Not even the mole had control over that. It all depended on how well you did on the quiz.

To be fair, the pale man didn’t think that he was the only one surprised to see Finn go, but he was pretty sure no one was taking it harder than Rachel. Her reaction to Finn’s being executed was worse than how Tina had taken Mike’s a few days earlier. Kurt, Blaine, and Mercedes were the only ones still trying to comfort Rachel by the time they all needed to call it a night.

Blaine had walked Kurt back to his room, just like a true gentleman.

“You don’t meet many guys these days that still have that sense of chivalry that you do Blaine,” Kurt said as they stopped at the door to his room. The curly haired man blushed.   


“Well, someone has to,” he commented, giving the gentlest of looks to the other man. Kurt felt like his stomach was beginning to fill with butterflies. Apparently, you were never too old for that overly giddy feeling that came with liking someone. The difference this time, there was a chance that someone would actually like him back. The pale man had a history of liking guys he could never have. Or, he was very bad at not hiding crushes on straight guys. Maybe that would change now that he had met Blaine. To be perfectly honest, Kurt wasn’t sure he wanted to meet anyone else now.

He leaned against the wall outside the door to his room for just a moment. The two of them just stared at each other in silence as he anticipated having to split from Blaine. Not for the first time, he wished that he and Blaine had been made roommates. It wasn’t meant to be though, at least not in Paris.

“The city of love,” he said, without realizing he was speaking his thoughts.

“It is,” Blaine said, a look on his face that suggested he was on the verge of laughing. Kurt gave him a mock hurt expression, but that did more to push the adorable curly haired man into giggles than to help him be more serious again. And the next thing he knew, Kurt was laughing too. He couldn’t help it. Blaine’s laughter was contagious.

“Inside joke boys?” came a voice and they turned to see Quinn. She was making her way back to the room she was sharing with Mercedes. They both turned to look at her, blushing profusely at having been caught in the middle of giddy laughter. “Mm-hm,” she added knowingly. “I’ll just leave you two alone then.”

With a playful knowing smirk, Kurt and Blaine watched as she made her way past them and down the hall to her room. They exchanged a glance before finally forcing themselves to say goodnight and Kurt entered his room.

“Good morning,” Will greeted in his usual manner the next day. He smiled brightly around at the players, all of whom seemed in positive spirits. All except for Rachel that was. The brunette’s face and eyes were still puffy from crying over Finn. For once, she wasn’t saying a word and she just sat there, merely pushing her food around on her plate. Which looked a little awkward because all she had were a few pieces of fruit.

Mercedes, who was seated on one side of her, gently patted her shoulder and Rachel looked up gratefully. Though she missed the concerned glance Mercedes shot Kurt, who in turn, shot the same concerned look at Blaine and Blaine looked back at Mercedes, also with concern.

“Now, before we get into today’s challenge, I have something for you all.” Will picked up a box and set it on the table.

“Are those our journals?” Santana asked and murmurs went up around the table.

“Right you are Santana,” Will said, starting to pass them out. “As those of you who are familiar with the show know, you can use these journals to keep track of your notes and information. Take down your observations and your ideas and suspects. I’d say guard it with your lives but that might be just a little too accurate.” A few laughs went up around the table.

Rachel was quiet as she picked up her journal. She ran her hands over the number eight on the front bottom right corner and let out a small sigh, setting the book down and speaking for the first time. “Are the numbers significant?” she asked.

Will looked at her for just a moment. “Well, they aren’t at this moment as I’ve just randomly handed them out, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be in the future.”

Puck gave a disapproving look. “I hope they mean nothing. Because as far as I’m concerned I’m number one, not six,” he said, tone slightly haughty.

Kurt looked at Puck. “They’ve never really meant anything before. Mostly because they’re always given randomly and there is no rule saying you need to have that number. There was a season in which all the players’ journals, with the exception of two, because one person was willing to sacrifice theirs and the other was on a medical rest so didn’t participate in that, were burned. When they were later given new journals, they were given the option to have the same number,” he said.

It was Santana who didn’t really like this information. “If the journals are so important, why the hell would you burn them?” she asked

“We tend not to reuse things in subsequent seasons. Can’t have fans of the show knowing what to expect now can we?” Will said. There was no doubt that all this journal talk had certainly never happened before. He’d never met a group of players who seemed to care so much about the significance of their journals. Of course, Mark from season five had to be the one exception to the rule. No player had ever relied so heavily on their journal. Mark had been a player in the season Kurt was referring to and at that time, Will had not been the host of the show. But anyone who was well acquainted with The Mole knew very well about the man’s reaction to having his journal burned.

An awkward silence kind of followed his words. There was little doubt that this whole conversation may be edited out of the final footage for the episode. Surely, past players didn’t want attention called to them like that.

Will decided it was time to move on and cleared his throat. “On to today’s challenge,” he said, breaking the awkward silence that had befallen them. “I need you to split into two groups. Two people with a lot of willpower, and eight people who can give you a run for your money.”

The group all went into a discussion with each other, trying to figure who was who and how to divide it. It wasn’t exactly five and five. In which case, you couldn’t really call it two groups. And there was also a slight notion that more than one player thought of. Though no one voiced that notion.

“Have you made a decision?” Will asked several moments later. They nodded, though a few of them didn’t look exactly pleased with their group. “Who are my two people with willpower?” Blaine and Quinn raised their hands. “Alright Blaine and Quinn. That means the rest of you can give you a run for your money. Run for your money people wait here, Blaine and Quinn, please come with me.” The two of them glanced at each other and stood to follow him. The others watched them walk out.

“What kind of willpower do you think they’ll need to show?” Tina said.

Kurt gave his head a shake. “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure whatever it is will involve an exemption.”

“Maybe they’ll have to resist the urge to take one to bank money?” Sam suggested. Kurt shook his head again.

“Not this early in the game,” he said.

“Lifting weights?” Brittany piped up. The blonde girl had been so quiet, they’d almost forgotten she was even there. “Doesn’t staying in shape require Will’s power?”

Santana gently laid a hand on her arm. “It’s willpower Brit-Brit,” she corrected the girl. “But you’re right, it does take willpower. On the other hand though, not really sure how there’s a test or challenge in lifting weights, so I don’t think that’s it.”

“To be honest,” Mercedes started. “I’m more worried about what the rest of us have to do. I think I would have rather done the willpower task.”

“But we have no idea what that is,” Tina pointed out. Mercedes just shrugged and didn’t say anything else.

Will led Blaine and Quinn through the hotel and into the gym. The two of them glanced at each other again before looking at the few people who were already getting in their morning’s workout. To an outside viewer, it might be looking like Brittany was right and they did indeed have to lift weights. But that wasn’t the case. Will took them through to a small room at the back of the gym.

Inside the room, two bicycle seats had been set up on poles. Blaine and Quinn exchanged glances for yet a third time. Will pulled the door shut behind them.

“Let me start with the good news.” Another glance. “How you fair in this challenge will have no effect on how much money the rest of the group banks. All this challenge is concerned about is two things. “Exemptions and money. However, you can only receive one or the other. Which one you get, will be determined by your willpower.”

Blaine walked forward towards the bicycle seats. “You aren’t expecting us to do handstands on these things are you?” He was clearly joking, and it took all Quinn had not to go along with the humor in it. But Will was still a professional and he didn’t show a hint that he thought what Blaine had said was funny, even if he did.

“No,” he said. “You’re going to sit on them, without your feet touching the floor.” For what seemed like the billionth time, Blaine and Quinn glanced at each other. “You have four hours,” Will went on. “If the both of you can sit there for the entire four hours, you will both receive an exemption. However, if just one of you gives up before four hours, neither of you will earn an exemption. But, should that be the case, for every thirty minutes you both stayed on the seat, I will add five thousand dollars to the pot for a total of thirty-five thousand dollars.” He glanced between the two of them. “If you both will get into position, the moment you are settled, the time will start.”

“How do you know if one of us quits?” Quinn asked.

Will pointed to a mirror on the back wall of the room. “We’ll be watching you,” he said, insinuating that the mirror was a two-way mirror and there was someone on the other side who was watching them the entire time. Of course, Blaine and Quinn had no way of knowing if that was the case. But one of the things they both had to think about now was what was more important, getting exemptions, or putting more money in the pot? On the one hand, they really needed the money because their pot stood at a dismal forty-nine thousand dollars after four challenges. On the other hand, it was highly likely the other players would be working on trying to bank some money as well.

“I guess it’s why they call it a test of willpower,” Blaine managed to say. Could either of them sit on that little bicycle seat raised off the ground for four hours? He honestly didn’t know. He considered himself pretty fit, given how he used to fence and play polo and still did some boxing from time to time. He wasn’t sure what Quinn’s background was.

Quinn just nodded as the two of them quietly moved to take their positions and Blaine found it was harder for him because he was kind of on the short side for a guy. But they were still both able to get into position without much difficulty. However, they both could tell almost immediately, how uncomfortable this was going to be. Blaine could feel the seat already digging into his ass and not in that good way he would have liked. He blushed around his ears just thinking about that.

“Well,” he said, trying to cover his own moment of awkwardness. “At least we have each other to talk to.”

Will looked at him at the words and a small smile wrote across his face. “Did I forget to mention? There will be no talking allowed during this challenge. For every peep either of you makes, I will take away five hundred dollars.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Quinn said, shifting slightly on her bicycle seat. Even for a girl with a prom queen figure, this was not going to be an easy challenge. The blonde glanced at her companion and drew a deep breath.

“Good thing Rachel isn’t doing this challenge,” Blaine said with a chuckle. It made Quinn smile. “She’d lose us all kinds of money, what with the fact that she can’t shut up.”

“Although,” Quinn replied, “Given that she’s hardly said a word all day due to Finn’s execution, maybe this would have been the perfect challenge for her.”

“I just hope she actually puts in effort today,” was all Blaine said.

Will cleared his throat. “Speaking of shutting up,” he started, referring back to Blaine’s previous comment about Rachel, “Your four hours of complete silence starts now. Good luck.” He left the room.

Quinn and Blaine both sat there in silence, hands on their support poles and minds churning a mile a minute. Each of them was wondering what the next task would be. And each of them was sure that the mole, whoever they were, knew exactly what everyone was doing at this moment, or at any given moment.

Back at the breakfast table, the rest of the players were still trying to figure out what it was Blaine and Quinn would have to do.

“I still think they have to withstand something,” Puck was saying. “What’s willpower if not having to show your strength against something? Maybe they’re trying to stop boulders from crashing to the ground.”

Santana raised an eyebrow at the man with the mohawk. “As if this show would really make anyone try to stop a boulder,” the Latina said.

“It was just a suggestion. Don’t get your panties all in a bunch.”

Rachel, who thus far had remained quiet since her question about the journal, opened her mouth to say something just as Will re-entered the room. “Hello again players,” the host said, causing the brunette to shut her mouth. “If the rest of you will please follow me,” he added, turning to lead them out of the room.

“Well?” Santana inquired. “What are they doing?”

Will glanced back at the Latina as he lead them out of the building and down the street a little ways. “Blaine and Quinn are going to just be sitting around for a little while. I’ll let them fill you in on the rest later,” was all he said.

“Sitting?” Puck bit out. “They’re asked to show their willpower and all they’re doing is sitting?” Will ignored the comment and didn’t reply. “This is bogus. Especially if they get an exemption for it.”

There were murmurs from the other players as the host lead the eight of them into a stadium of some sort with a track around the rim, not unlike the football field at an American high school.

“What are we doing here?” Mercedes asked, looking around. “I’m telling you, I cannot run.” She gave her head a shake.

Will came to a stop at the spot that marked the starting line where four guys stood stretching out their limbs. “Behind me are four champions who have competed in the French Athletic Championships, a competition for track and field,” he said. “You eight are designated those who can give you a run for your money and all you have to do is beat one of these guys behind me.”

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. “You want us to race national track and field champions?” Will nodded.

“Each of you will compete against one of these racers in one lap around the track. For every one of you that can beat the champion, I’ll add five thousand dollars to the pot. As there are eight of you and only four of them, the champions will each be racing twice.”

Mercedes stood there shaking her head. “I may be all that, but I can’t beat no champion in a race,” she said.

Surprisingly, it was Rachel that piped up in reply. “Will didn’t say how we had to beat them, just that we had to beat them,” she said, placing a hand on the other girl’s arm. “We have to use our strengths to our advantage. If you’re not a fast runner, try to distract them,” she encouraged her.

“Thanks,” Mercedes said in surprise.

“You tried to help me last night, so I’m just returning the favor.”

Santana cut in. “And what is your advantage manhands?” she asked the brunette in a sharp tone of voice.

Rachel looked at her. “I’m on the short side, which typically aides me in running very fast if I have to.”

“I can smoke these guys, no sweat,” Puck said.

“I hope you’re right about that Puck,” Will said. “Because you are up first.” Puck joined the first guy at the starting line. In the mohawked man’s opinion, he looked too stereotypically French, with one of those dark curled tip mustaches and the man had a notion this guy might look more at home in the kitchen rather than on a track. He snorted in quiet laughter.

Santana muttered something under her breath as she watched the two take their mark, before shouting out loud, “You’re not even in the right position to start Puckerman!”

Puck snorted again. “Lay off Lopez! I’m a pro football player. I know how to run a race.”

“The only thing you know how to run, is a brothel,” the Latina muttered. “Though she had thought a few other choice words rather than a more proper term because she knew that Puck would never call it that.

Will raised both his hands. “One lap around the track guys. On your mark, get set, go!”

Puck and the champion took off with the latter taking an easy lead, given that Santana had been right. Puck hadn’t been in the proper starting position. “Oh no you don’t,” the mohawk man muttered and picked up speed, surprisingly catching up to his opponent.

The three remaining track stars were discussing in French and Kurt who was closest to them, was continuing to frown. They of course were unaware that he was fluent in French and he could understand every word they were saying and it was making him feel uneasy.

“What’s wrong white boy?” Mercedes asked and Kurt glanced at her.

“They’re insulting his form, with very rude language I should add,” Kurt told her quietly. The dark skinned diva glanced over at the three Frenchmen who kept their eyes on the two racers, still chattering and making comments.

“For champions, they must be really sore losers,” she replied. Kurt let out a guffaw as a laugh.

“Yeah, let them be embarrassed to be beaten by a few amateurs,” he said.

By halfway around the truck, Puck had gained on his opponent and was meeting him step for step. He pushed just that bit harder and…

An expletive met the air as the guy with the mohawk suddenly tripped and fell to the ground, the rest of the players gasping in surprise. Some of them had to wonder if he had done that on purpose. How could a professional football player trip out of nowhere and fall? There was nothing to trip on except his own feet. But Puck wasn’t clumsy.

This mishap allowed the track star to get ahead and by the time Puck had gotten back to his feet, albeit running with a limp, the French athlete was approaching the finish line. He crossed it easily and Puck let out another expletive, collapsing back to the ground and grimacing.

“I think he’s twisted his ankle,” Kurt said.

Santana was giving Puck a suspicious look. “Of all times for someone who basically runs for a living to conveniently sprain their ankle,” she stated.

“I’m sorry Puck, you did not beat your opponent. No money will be added to the pot.” Puck’s face showed too much pain for him to really garner a reply and within moments, producers had medics over to look at him.

“Mole,” Santana muttered, just as Will stated that she was up.

Back at the hotel, Quinn and Blaine were still sitting on their bicycle seats. Thankfully, neither of them had to wonder how long they had been sitting there for. There was a digital timer mounted to the wall in front of them, counting down the minutes. Three-quarters of an hour had already passed and they both kept shifting.

_ I can’t feel my butt anymore, _ Blaine thought to himself. He felt his face grow warm. Just the thought of it made him blush. This wasn’t the first time something in his ass had caused him to go numb. Though that experience had not been the enjoyable one he’d been looking for. The guy was certainly no Prince Charming, even if he had pretended to be when Blaine had first met him. He shoved the thought out of his head and watched Quinn.

The blonde girl, to her credit, seemed to be taking it like a champ. And even if she was periodically shifting on her seat, she did so without showing in the slightest that she was uncomfortable. Blaine noted that she was sitting with her eyes shut and she seemed to be focused on her breathing.

_ She must be meditating, _ he thought. Blaine wondered if he should try that too, but he had never meditated before. Always living life on a high energy wave, he hadn’t needed any sense of calming. He could feel his legs wavering a bit and he shifted again, wanting only to stay up longer. If he dropped before an hour even, how embarrassing that would be.

At the stadium, the racing continued. Santana’s opponent turned out to be shorter than she was and she was quick to notice it worked to his advantage. She had just barely managed to pass him when they crossed the finish line.

“Congratulations Santana! By half a foot, literally, you have just added five thousand dollars to the pot!” Will said. “That brings the total to fifty-four thousand dollars!” The Latina cheered and grabbed a water bottle that was offered to her.

“And that’s how we do it in Dallas,” she got out between breaths.

“Kurt, you’re up!”

The pale man made his way to the starting line, frowning slightly. How the hell Will expected him to run in jeans so tight they looked painted on, he wasn’t sure. But as he carefully took position, he noticed the tan skinned blonde racer beside him subtly eye-check him. This gave him an idea. If he could get ahead enough, maybe that could work to his advantage. He glanced at his opponent with a knowing smirk.

“Aimez ce que vous voyez?” Kurt said to the man in perfect French. The man gave him a surprised look, clearly not expecting Kurt to be fluent in his native language. A red blush color blooming over his face, was all the answer Kurt needed to know that yes, he did like what he saw. The pale man hmphed in his accomplishment, that knowing smirk still on his face.

He may not be interested in this French guy, but he was sure as hell okay with him staring at his ass in his painted on jeans if it meant he could beat him in this race.

“Go!” Will called and Kurt sprinted forward as fast and as gracefully as he could. As he’d been expecting, the French racer choked the moment his eyes landed on Kurt’s backside and he slowed down, a kind of loopy expression on his face. By the end of their lap around the track, Kurt was well in the lead with only a leisurely jog.

The rest of the players didn’t miss exactly how Kurt had managed to win and Santana was outright laughing at the guy.

“Let’s hope his second match-up is against a girl,” the Latina snorted. “I mean, if he wants any chance at winning,” she added.

“Well done Kurt!” Will congratulated him. “Five thousand dollars goes into the pot, bringing the total to fifty-nine thousand dollars!” They all cheered, being ten thousand dollars richer than when they started the morning. They were now two for three, which wasn’t too bad.

Next up with Tina. Her opponent was the biggest looking guy of the four of them. While she put in a good fight, she came up short because he could take longer strides than she could. This made them two for four, which was fifty percent.

“Come on Sam!” Mercedes shouted as the blonde guy was up next. Puck, who was sitting on the bench behind them with his ankle propped up and an ice pack resting atop it, muttered something about how embarrassing it would be if he was the only guy who lost.

Luck was not on Puck’s side. Sam was racing the same guy Puck had to race and he was apparently out for revenge because he came in just moments before the track star, putting another five thousand dollars in the pot. They were now up to sixty-four thousand dollars.

Mercedes was next. To her credit, she did better than she thought she would, not coming in terribly far behind her opponent but she still failed to beat him.

Brittany was faced with the guy who lost due to staring at Kurt’s ass and while he was not interested in her ass, his focus was thrown again by how strange the girl could seem. Instead of running, she was skipping along the track like she was on her merry way down the lane and the French man stopped to puzzle over whether or not she knew what she was even supposed to be doing. His confusion was enough to earn her the win and they were now up to sixty-nine thousand dollars. There was just one player to go.

Rachel.

The main issue with Rachel here was that she was talking about being fast because she was small. Tina had certainly been smaller than the big guy that Rachel was now faced with, but it hadn’t helped her beat him. He was using his size to his advantage in the same way Rachel intended to use hers.

“Smaller people could take shorter quicker strides, therefore allowing them to cover more ground quicker,” she said, taking her mark. “Large strides are great but it’s slower going because you have to reach farther.” Her opponent just laughed, tossing the whole thing aside as though it were a joke, though none of them could be sure he even knew what she was saying. Could these guys understand English?

But Rachel had that determined look on her face. Against everyone’s expectations, she had put her misery over Finn’s execution behind her to focus on winning money. Maybe she wasn’t the mole then. On the other hand, her sadness over Finn could have all been an act and they all knew acting was something Rachel was very skilled at, so maybe she still could be the mole after all.

Will’s call to go had everyone lapsing into silence as the two runners took off from the starting line.

In the gym, Quinn had started to get more restless. They were approaching the two hour mark and she was finding the meditation was not working as well. She was opening and closing her mouth, on the verge of saying something, which she knew would lose them money.

Blaine knew exactly how she was feeling. The urge to talk and say something, whether it was encouragement or wondering what the other players were doing or just something to pass the time, was incredibly great, even for people who weren’t chatterboxes like Rachel Berry. But he didn’t want to lose them any money either.

The curly haired man shifted again on the bicycle seat just as they reached two hours, halfway through the challenge. He wasn’t sure he could do another two hours. Did he really need an exemption this early in the game?

At this point, he was beginning to wonder which strength of will needed to be stronger. To sit or to stay silent?

Quinn was the one who answered, as just minutes after they reached two hours, she slipped off the seat and landed on the floor, collapsing in a heap. With her slipping off, the challenge was now over, and Blaine slid off his own seat.

The blonde girl was staring up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, “ she said. “I know exemptions are important, even if not so much this early and I might have been able to stay on longer. But the need to not say a word was driving me nuts.”

Blaine nodded. “I never thought I could go so crazy just by being silent.”

“I think it’s the situation we were in,” Quinn responded. “But hey, we did add twenty thousand dollars to the pot, right?” she asked.

“That sounds right, yeah. Will did say five thousand dollars for every half hour we managed to stay on the seat.”

“We lasted half the time. I’d say that’s an accomplishment,” Quinn put in.

They were quiet for a few moments before Blaine uttered one small sentence that had them both laughing. “My ass hurts.”

“Come on Rachel!” Mercedes cheered back at the track as the brunette girl was proving you should never underestimate her height.

“The hobbit sure can fly,” Santana stated. In fact, it looked like the bigger guy was losing breath just trying to keep up with Rachel and the petite Jewish girl crossed the finish line more than a few steps ahead of him.

Surprised by this turn of events, the other players cheered and Will happily declared Rachel had added another five thousand dollars to the pot, which brought the grand total after this challenge to seventy-four thousand dollars.

“Not a bad game guys!” Will congratulated them.

They all shook hands with track stars, the gay one holding on to Kurt’s hand just a little to long for comfort. Maybe the pale man had teased him, but he definitely was not interested in him. A certain hazel eyed, curly haired someone was the only man on his radar.

“Shall we return to the hotel?” Will asked. They all nodded and followed him back the way they had come, Puck now on crutches.

There was a lot for them to think about that game. Rachel could either be a genuine player, or the mole, depending on how you looked at her actions that day. Puck could very easily be the mole because he was a professional football player and out of nowhere, had tripped and sprained his ankle. Could he have injured himself on purpose? Or was it really an accident brought on by too big an ego?

When they got back to the hotel, Will signalled for the players to wait in the lobby while he went to check on the other two.

He found the two of them both sitting on the floor against the wall, talking and a glance at the timer told him, they’d lasted just over two hours before one of them had had enough.

“Blaine, Quinn,” he said and they looked up. “You did not manage to stay seated on the bicycle seats for four hours. Therefore, neither of you gets an exemption. However, you both remained seated for two hours, which at five thousand dollars for every half hour, earns you twenty thousand dollars for the pot. Shall we go tell the other players how you made out?”

The two of them nodded and got up gingerly as their backsides were still hurting from being practically impaled by the bicycle seat for so long. They followed Will out of the room and through the hotel to the lobby.

“Blaine and Quinn have been sequestered from the rest of you for their own challenge. While you were running races, they were sitting pretty, trying to stay put for four hours and they weren’t allowed to talk.” Will glanced at Blaine and Quinn. “While the two of you were sitting around, the rest of the players were racing French track stars. For every one of them that managed to beat a champion, I added five thousand dollars to the pot. How did you guys do?”

Rachel was grinning broadly, a clear turnaround from the kicked puppy she’d been earlier. She pumped a fist in the air. “We got five out of eight! Which means we banked twenty-five thousand dollars!” she said enthusiastically.

“And Puckerman sprained his ankle,” Santana added, nodding to the man on crutches. Puck glared at the Latina.

Blaine looked surprised. “You’re a Miami Dolphin! Surely you could have outrun a French track star,” he said.

Puck glared at him now. “Yeah? We had to run for our money! Run gel boy! And what did you have to do? Oh that’s right, sit on your happy ass and probably earn an exemption!”

This time, Quinn was the one who glared. She stepped forward. “Oh yeah, we had to sit. On bicycle seats without our feet touching the ground! For four hours! We only lasted two so we don’t get exemptions. But you better be cheering for us anyway because not getting the exemptions means we added twenty thousand dollars to the pot!” It was clear she was steamed. Puck seemed to think they had it easy. “I bet you wouldn’t last five minutes on that bicycle seat!”

Puck was silent. Clearly, he hadn’t taken into account there was definitely more to the challenge and he didn’t have a rebuttal for Quinn, who was breathing heavily by the end of her spiel.

Will cleared his throat, trying to get passed the sudden tension in the lobby. “Overall, today was a very successful day. You managed to bank forty-five thousand dollars, nearly doubling your current pot and bringing the total to ninety-four thousand dollars! Well done guys! But tomorrow is another day and there is still more game to play. So, goodnight.”

With those words, the host departed the group, leaving them all heading for their rooms and feeling good about the day, despite the tensions.


	6. The Third Execution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long guys! I was stumped with a challenge idea for this chapter. But I didn't forget about it. And this might have gone up sooner if I wasn't having to write and beta over commercial breaks during AGT and Bring The Funny. But it's here and I'm so happy to bring you another installment to this lovely game. Hopefully chapter 7 won't take me as long to come up with.
> 
> I do have a plan for a future chapter, but like I said, it's a future chapter, lol. I've decided I want a specific number of players left before I do it!
> 
> Anyway, comments and kudos make me smile! I've tried hard with this chapter to throw reader suspicion by writing things that might make you second guess who you think the mole is! xD

That night, no one spoke to anyone. Everyone was under some kind of tension, mostly from the argument before they split. And Puck had a bruised ego, after the fact that he had been the only guy who hadn’t won his race. Sure, he ached from the fall as well, but nothing hurt more than his ego. It was one of the reasons he was so short tempered.

Blaine had wanted to go and see Kurt but had ended up soaking in the bathtub because his ass still hurt from sitting on that bicycle seat so long. He scolded himself for agreeing to be one of the willpower people. He wouldn’t be surprised if Quinn was doing the same thing. Neither of them really had much tush to protect them. The very thought had the curly haired man blushing just slightly. He was aware that people thought he had a nice ass, he just didn’t have a lot of ass.

Of course, there was another ass he was more interested in, and that thought made him blush even more. The curly haired man sank beneath the surface of the water for a moment to hide his embarrassment.

“Blaine?” Sam called out, rapping lightly on the bathroom door. “Blaine, I gotta use the restroom. Is it okay if I come in?”

The other man pushed himself back above water and grabbed the shower curtain, pulling it closed around the tub. “Yeah okay, go ahead,” he said. The last thing he wanted was to make things possibly uncomfortable for either one of them. Sam seeing him naked in the tub and him feeling that draw of checking out Sam’s package. Not that Blaine was the kind of guy who would do that but Sam was on the attractive side, even if his mouth was a little big.

The blonde man entered the bathroom and made his way over to the toilet. “Are you okay man?” he asked Blaine.

A sloshing sound was heard from the tub as Blaine shrugged. “Yeah. I just wasn’t prepared for sitting on that so long. It’s one thing when you’re actually riding a bike but to sit on a bicycle seat suspended enough for your feet not to touch the ground was completely different. Granted, Blaine couldn’t even remember the last time he had ridden a bike. Maybe after this show, he would start taking up the exercise bike at the gym.

“I don’t know how your challenge was, but it sounds brutal,” Sam said, his voice echoing a bit as his head was turned up towards the ceiling while he used the toilet.

Again, Blaine shrugged. “I feel like the brutality of it can’t be fully appreciated without having to experience it.” Sam didn’t miss the hint of bitterness in his tone.

“Ah man, Puck’s just got a bruised ego. He was the only guy who didn’t win his race. He tripped and fell trying to run faster than the other guy,” he explained.

Blaine snorted. “Well that’s not sabotage at all,” he remarked. Clearly, even not being present at the races, people could see how Puck tripping and falling was so out of place it could be considered a genuine act of sabotage. “In which case, he doesn’t make a very good mole now does he?” he asked.

“So you think it’s Puck?”

The curly haired man pulled back the shower curtain just enough that he could poke his head out to look at Sam, who was now washing his hands. “Well I mean, the incident at the races makes it blatantly obvious don’t you think?” Sam only nodded his head. “On top of that, Puck likes to talk an awful big game. He spends his time acting like a badass, when I don’t think he’s really all that much of one at all. The point here, is that he acts in such a way that makes it look like he’s trying too hard.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, mulling over what Blaine had just said. The curly haired man was clearly a forward thinker in some ways. In a sense that Blaine had the kind of intelligence that allowed you to read into people better than other people could. But that wasn’t a surprise. The other man was certainly a people person. Sam noticed how comfortable his roommate was around other people, how he seemed to get on with them with such an ease. It almost seemed like everything was so easy for Blaine.

There was no doubt that his newfound friend had a point. Puck could be trying too hard. Maybe he was the mole. But there were still doubts in Sam’s mind. He had other people on his list. He was just going to have to divide his answers a little bit more on the next quiz.

The next morning dawned and found the players once again, seated at the breakfast table with Will sitting at the head. Puck was strangely quiet, choosing only to sit there and eye each and every one of the other players with a critical look.

“I trust you all had a good night?” Will said, grinning around at the ten of them. There were a few nods and murmurs of agreement. But the host did note that Blaine was sitting on a pillow. “Still sore there Blaine?” he asked.

“A little yes,” he replied, blushing a bit around the ears. Kurt, who was seated beside him, patted his arm gently.

“Puck, you seemed to take most of everything that happened with a grain of salt, so to speak,” Will said to the self-proclaimed badass.

The mohawked man finally rested his eyes on the host. “As far as I’m concerned, everyone here is a suspect,” he said. He eyed Blaine and Quinn both directly. “Those two over there are my highest though as both had a chance at an exemption and both ended up giving it up, which could clearly indicate that they don’t need one.”

Quinn set down her fork and stared at him for a moment. “I don’t think that’s logical thinking,” she said.

“And why is that Quinn?” Will cut in, before Puck had a chance to retaliate.

The blonde glanced at the host. “Because, there are still ten of us left. Right now is not the most crucial point to need an exemption. The earliest crucial exemption is actually the first one. Because let’s face it, no one wants to be the first person to be executed.” Tina let out a bit of a gasping sob at her words. “But after that, I feel like they aren’t as crucial until numbers really start dwindling and of course, the most crucial exemption of all, the one that people would do anything to nab, is the final exemption of the game, the one that secures your spot in the final three.” She paused for just a moment. “So go ahead Puck and assume that Blaine or I didn’t last for the exemption because we didn’t need it. In the long run, you’ll be doing us a favor.”

Puck slammed his hand palm flat on the table, clearly upset with the woman and he was about to spew off on a tangent when Will decided now was the right moment to cut in, defuse the tension before the fur started to fly even more.

“Moving on,” he started. “How are you guys with judging weight?”

The whole table unanimously glanced around at each other and it was Kurt who spoke up. “I hope you aren’t expecting us to guess each other’s weight, because that is really rude,” he stated. A few of the girls at the table nodded their heads.

The host shook his head. “No, you won’t be guessing people’s weight,” he assured them. “But you will be guessing weight and you will be measuring things. If you’re all finished, I’d like to ask you to please follow me.” He stood from the table and lead them out of the dining room.

It was strangely silent as the ten of them followed him to a conference room in which various different objects sat on the table. The tension between the players was still high and everyone was locked into their own thoughts. No one noticed when Kurt slid a hand into Blaine’s as they walked.

Will shut the doors to the conference room and gestured for them all to have a seat. “In front of you, you will see are twenty different things. Some of them are everyday objects, some are food items, and some are completely random. All of them need to be measured. Here’s the deal,” he explained, walking over to a part of the table on which sat a scale. “Your task is to put enough of each object into a bowl to equal a pound. However, you cannot weigh it until after you feel you have correctly sorted out a pound. You will get three attempts for each object. To make things easier, I’m giving you guys a ten ounce each way window. Once you think you have a pound, you will bring it up to weigh on this scale. For everything that comes within the ten ounce window, I will add a thousand dollars to the pot.”

The players all glanced at each other. It sounded simple enough. But it would mean deciding how much something weighed just by feeling it and these things all obviously weighed different.

Tina plucked a feather from the pile sitting in front of her. “Are you kidding? Feathers weigh next to nothing! It would take more than this pile to weigh out a pound of them!” she cried out.

Will nodded his head to her. “All of those items were weighed out ahead of time. They have more than enough to equal a pound.” Tina still looked skeptical as she dropped the feather back onto the pile.

“What about an exemption?” Mercedes asked, looking back at the host.

“There will be no exemption offered during this challenge, which means for tonight’s execution, all of you are on an even playing field.”

The ten of them looked a little bit scared. This was one of the few challenges that didn’t offer means of exemption. And if not for the fact that they couldn’t stay up the entire four hours the day before, Quinn and Blaine would both have one. But everyone being on an even playing field was much more relieving than the chances of being the next person to go home getting smaller in a larger number.

A few of them were clearly not happy that there would not be a chance for an exemption, one of those people being Puck. He shot glares toward Blaine and Quinn, obviously a bit on the miffed side that the two of them were the only ones who had a shot at an exemption for this quiz. Though he wasn’t quite so angry as he might have been if they had successfully earned the exemptions. So while he was pissed he didn’t get a shot at one, he felt justified in that no one would have one going into the next execution.

“Oh, one more thing I forgot to mention at breakfast today. Someone has been moling around in a few of your journals,” Will said. The players all glanced at each other. “Will you please all take them out and open them up to the first blank page?”

Tension increased. They had barely had their journals and yet they had already been tampered with.

“I’ve got something!” Kurt said and the others glanced at him. He was looking down at the page in his journal where a message put together by cutout letters was pasted.

“What does it say?” Will asked.

“This game is completely nuts, and none of us are sane, but you’ll keep a cool head, driving in the fast lane,” Kurt read. He had no idea what the message meant. “And it’s signed ‘The Mole’,” he added.

Will nodded his head. “Do you know what that means?”

“No,” Kurt responded immediately.

The host nodded his head. “Perhaps the meaning will become clear as the game goes on, should you survive execution.” Kurt swallowed. He didn’t exactly know what the cryptic clue the mole left for him meant, but it was obvious it was meant for a later date. He hoped he would survive the quiz tonight so that he could possibly find out.

“I’ve got one too!” Tina called out. Will nodded to her. “Don’t sweat the hard stuff and carry the light, keep your head up and you’ll be alright,” she read, frowning slightly.

“The mole has elected to give you encouragement Tina. They must like you,” Will explained.

A growl suddenly filled the room and everyone turned to see Puck slam his open journal on the table. The mohawked man’s narrowed eyes landed on Santana and she glared right back at him.

“Why would you do this?!” he spit at her, clearly accusing her in front of everyone of being the mole. Santana raised an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” she questioned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.

“I think you very well do!” Puck snapped back.

Will cleared his throat. “What does it say Puck?” he asked.

The man with the mohawk picked his journal up again, the anger on his face still evident. “You’re a little uptight, so take out that stick, get off your high horse and stop being a prick.” Santana snorted with laughter at the message.

“Bravo mole, bravo!” she said.

“You would applaud yourself,” Puck snapped, rolling his eyes. He was so angry, he tore the page out of his journal and crumpled it up into a ball.

Will was starting to see this season so far as being one of the seasons that was high on drama. He cleared his throat again. “All the messages the mole chose to leave mean something. Whether it is encouragement or a reality check or a hint of something to come,” he said, nodding to all three of the players. “The mole has thoughts about all of you.”

“Is the mole going to be leaving messages for the rest of us too?” Rachel asked eagerly, a little bit sad that she hadn’t gotten one. Maybe it seemed weird, but she kind of felt like it would have been cool to have the mole notice her in some way. Even if that way turned out to be negative. Of course, she wouldn’t take it nearly as bad as Puck had, but she was sure she wasn’t alone in thinking that the mole might have a point.

Will offered her a small smile. “It’s hard to say. The mole does have their own agenda. But there is no way of knowing who they will acknowledge.”

“Stop being a prick,” Puck muttered. “I’ll show you stop being a prick!” He was at the point where he was ready to literally call the mole out and end the show before there could be a winner. However, he stayed quiet, intending to let his thoughts stew because there was still money to be won. And the money was still important, even if his ego should come first.

The host waited a beat, wanting to make sure all the tension had died down, at least for the time being, so that the players could concentrate on their task. This particular group was an interesting one to say the least.

“Okay,” Will finally said. “If you guys are ready, we can begin.”

“Is there a specific order we have to go in?” Sam asked, looking down at the basket of apples in front of him. He found himself momentarily wanting to eat one because they looked so delicious.

Will shook his head. “No. You can do it however you wish to do it. But once you start with one item, you cannot move to the next until you have either successfully weighed it or exhausted your three attempts.”

Tina once more picked up a feather and frowned. “I say we start with the easy stuff. That way, we’ll be sure to get at least some money added to the pot.” Her eyes remained on the feathers. “I honestly think these would be the hardest,” she said.

Kurt moved over to her. “Not necessarily,” he commented, picking one feather up and looking at it for a moment. “I have a notion that each of these things is not given to us in the same weight.”

“What do you mean?” Blaine asked, stepping closer to him and also picking up a feather.”

“I mean that the amount of each item is different based on weight, but there’s at least a pound of all of them,” he said.

“So you don’t think they are the same quantity by weight?” Tina asked. Kurt shook his head. “Where’s your logic here then?’

Kurt set his feather down and pointed to the pile. “It’s obvious that weighing feathers might be the most difficult to figure out a pound,” he explained, glancing from Tina to Blaine and back again as the rest of the players gathered closer. “Therefore by deductive reasoning, I’d say the entire pile of feathers is exactly a pound,” he finished.

Sam looked confused. He couldn’t figure how Kurt was deducing any of this. Blaine cleared that up without even being asked.

“You’re saying that because it being the most difficult would likely be obvious, they’ve given us exactly a pound in hopes that it might trip us up?” he said.

Kurt waved his hand in a so-so manner. “Who knows how the producers set this game up. But I wouldn’t have put it past the mole to tamper with it beforehand and make the feathers exactly a pound. Though I would have to give that person credit for having the patience to do that.”

“I so would not,” Santana spit out, giving Puck a glare.

“Would not what?!” the mohawk man challenged.

“Have the patience to weigh out exactly a pound of feathers.”

Puck’s eyes turned on Kurt. “Fine, we weigh the feathers first. If you’re wrong I’m calling mole activity on you too!”

Kurt gathered the feathers into a bowl. “Well,” he said, not really phased by the threat. The more people suspecting him, the better for his own game. “If this entire pile of feathers happens to be less than one pound, we know one thing for sure.”

“What’s that?” Blaine asked as the group followed Kurt to the scale with the bowl.

Kurt placed the bowl of feathers on the scale and looked back at all of them. “That these feathers were definitely tampered with. Will said that everything had more than enough to equal a pound.”

The host had been quietly listening to the reasoning of the players and glanced down at the scale. As Kurt had suspected, the feathers weighed exactly a pound. Given what Will had said about everything having more than enough to equal a pound, they knew someone had tampered with them. There were less feathers than everything else.

“Congratulations guys, that’s exactly one pound and you add a thousand dollars for the pot, which brings it up to ninety-five thousand dollars.” They applauded that their first weigh in was so successful. “However, I am willing to make you guys an offer.”

“What kind of offer?” Santana asked. The others nodded their agreement.

Will grinned. “If you can agree as a team to forfeit the feathers and their one thousand dollar gain, I will agree to have you only have to get four other weights correct and give you five thousand dollars for each correct answer, also equaling a total of twenty thousand dollars possible for this task. However, if you choose to do this, you will only get one attempt to make the weight bracket.”

“What is this, Deal or No Deal?” Puck questioned.

“No silly,” Brittany said and everyone jumped. The girl was so quiet usually, they often forgot she was even there. “It’s The Mole!”

Puck looked ready to retort with a smart remark but shut his mouth at the death glare on Santana’s face. The Latina didn’t even need words to warn him if he dared say anything mean to Brittany, she would rip him a new one. Puck knew her better than perhaps he should so he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

Everyone else turned to Kurt, who seemed to have been taking the lead on this particular challenge. The pale man was rubbing his chin and Blaine would be damned if he didn’t think that was so adorable.

_ I’m in so much trouble, _ Blaine thought to himself, trying to shake his head off.

“What do you think we should do porcelain?” Santana asked.

Kurt held out both hands. “There are pros and cons either way. If we keep things as they are, we absolutely have to weigh everything here for a shot at the entire twenty thousand dollars, but we would get three attempts at weighing everything. If we take Will’s offer, we won’t necessarily have to try and weigh everything, but we will only get one shot to get each weight in the bracket.”

“So either way we could be here all day,” Tina said.

“I say we take the deal. Some of this stuff looks positively daunting to try and measure,” Rachel said. “If we keep going on this route, we will have to try them. The other way, we can pick and choose what we think will be easiest and hopefully avoid more daunting measurements.”

Quinn came up to stand beside Kurt, Tina, and Blaine. “Do we have a time limit?” she asked Will.

The host actually laughed. “Well, we do need to be done in order to do the execution tonight,” he said. “But if it comes to it, we are at liberty to end the task and add whatever was made up until that point,” he added. So staying long term would not necessarily mean they would win everything they possibly could.

Again, all eyes were on Kurt, silently asking him which route they should take, even though there was no official leader in this challenge. Because of his logic with the feathers, they figured he might know best.

“We’ll take your deal,” Kurt said after a moment. “Rachel’s right. If we go with the stuff we feel might be easiest, we can get done faster. If we go the other route, and we’re still here weighing stuff so much later, we can’t guarantee we’ll bank everything possible.”

The group all nodded, deciding just to follow Kurt’s lead.

“Very well,” Will said, removing the bowl of feathers from the scale. “One thousand dollars has once again been removed from the pot.”

“So what do we start with?” Blaine asked.

Kurt moved to stand in front of the assortment of candy. “If we take two giant jawbreakers, assuming they weigh about .34 ounces each, that will be more than half a pound.”

The others stared at him. “How the hell do you know that?” Puck asked.

“I bought some candy once, at a place that did it by weight. One giant jawbreaker weighs more than a quarter pound, and three is over a whole pound.”

For a moment the rest of the players were speechless, not sure how to respond to this. There was one thing they were sure of. Kurt was making their heads spin with such calculations. In which case, they could be there all day anyway.

“Why don’t we just do this genius,” Santana said and she grabbed the bowl of feathers. “We know this is a pound. How about we just fill a bowl with something until it feels about the same in our hands as the pound of feathers does?”

Everyone else seemed to think that was a fair way to do it. Besides, Kurt was beginning to make their brains hurt. The pale man blushed a bit and just nodded his head, agreeing to go along with the rest of the group.

They started with the apples, which as Sam might have thought, turned out to be one of the easiest things on the table to weigh. They were ecstatic when they fell within the bracket on their first and only try. Five thousand dollars was added to the pot and they were now one thousand away from banking one hundred thousand so far. Whatever happened in this challenge, at least these two days would be counted as successful. They had banked a total of fifty thousand dollars so far. Definitely a step up from the previous challenges.

“What should we try to weight next?” Tina asked, looking at the odd collection of things on the table.

“I still say we can do a pound of candy,” Kurt said.

Brittany however, had picked up a collection of cat toys and stuck them in a bowl without telling anyone else and before they could pick something new to try, she had already chosen for them with the cat toys.

“Brit,” Santana started. “What are you doing?”

The blonde girl gave the Latina an innocent look. “Isn’t this what we’re supposed to do? Throw like items in a bowl?” she asked. Santana marveled for a moment at just how adorably clueless the girl was. She gently picked up a catnip toy and set it in the bowl.

“Yes Brit, that’s right,” she said. The rest of the players glanced at each other, with Kurt and Blaine exchanging knowing looks. Santana grabbed the bowl of feathers and handed it to Brittany. “Brit Brit, do those two bowls feel the same?” she asked, still remaining gentle with the girl.

Brittany seemed to be contemplating it for a moment, before she set the cat toy bowl down and then switched a couple of the items for smaller ones. Then, she handed the bowl back to Santana.

“That should be what we need, Sanny,” she said.

“Are you sure?” Santana asked the girl.

“Uh huh! Lord Tubbington says so.” Santana wasn’t entirely sure what that was about but she took the bowl anyway, patting Brittany gently on the arm.

The players were all collectively quiet as the Latina took the cat toys over to be weighed.

“Congratulations,” Will said after a moment. “That is exactly one pound of cat toys. Another five thousand dollars will be added to the pot.”

For a moment, everyone in the room was stunned.

“I did good?” Brittany asked.

“Yes Brit Brit,” Santana replied. “You did good.” She knew very well that it was important to make sure that Brittany knew when she had done a good job and the blonde girl had mostly positive outcomes from anytime she had tried to help. The others decided to applaud her for the help. All she needed was encouragement after all.

The task wore on and they were beginning to find the things that they thought might be easy to nab the bracket on the first try, weren’t quite so much.

Sometime later, Santana threw a bowl of hot dogs at the wall in frustration. “How could it be so hard to weigh out a pound of hot dogs?!” she bit. “Isn’t one package of them equal to a pound?” She felt for sure that meant it would have been ten hot dogs.

“I told you we shouldn’t touch them,” Rachel said, throwing her hands up. Though her actual reason for not touching the hot dogs was because she was a vegetarian. Not that the rest of them needed to know that.

Santana gave the girl a dirty look and Rachel once more threw her hands up, this time in surrender.

“At this rate,” Mercedes said, “We could have just stuck with the original rules.” No one said anything. They didn’t want to admit that she had a point. At the same time, if this was proving to be more difficult than they might have thought, maybe that wouldn’t have been easier after all.

“I still think we would have been here longer,” Kurt said, now measuring sunflower seeds into a bowl. “I mean, if we stayed with those rules, we would still have three attempts at measuring them. Which would have meant recalculating if we had gotten it wrong.” There were murmurs this time at his words. Kurt had a point as well. With the old rules, they might have still been stuck there working three times as long as they were now.

Kurt picked up the bowl of sunflower seeds and held the bowl of cat toys in his other hand. They felt roughly the same weight to him so he walked over to Will and set the bowl in the scales. They didn’t have many options left and they really only needed to find two more that they could weigh out properly. Everyone held their breaths and crossed their fingers.

“Congratulations Kurt,” Will said after checking the weight on the scale. “Not exactly a pound, but you’re within the ten ounce bracket so another five thousand dollars will be added to the pot, bringing the current total up to one hundred and nine thousand dollars.”

They all cheered. Even if they didn’t manage to properly weigh out one more thing, at least they got more than half.

The candy still remained untouched, as did an assortment of rubber bands and some cotton balls. They were the final three things left on the table. It had taken them seventeen things just to properly weigh out three items once. There were some that had been just off and that was even more frustrating because they knew if they had stuck with the original rules, they could have gotten them right on the second or third weigh in.

They were debating which of the three might be the easiest, with Kurt still insisting they should go with the candy, while Blaine tried to convince him that the cotton balls would be similar to the feathers and they probably would need around the same amount. But who had time to count the number out? That was a fact Santana had no trouble pointing out to the curly haired man.

However, by the time they had finally all agreed to go with Kurt and try the candy, Will had some unfortunate news. They had maxed out on their allotted time for the challenge. Part of the reason was because they spent so much time debating what to try and how much of that item would equal a pound.

_ Talking and debating are great ways to pass the time. Another five thousand dollars goes to me, _ the mole thought as they all dispersed, feeling slightly defeated, but elated all the same because they were now up to one hundred and nine thousand dollars in the pot.

That night at dinner, Will raised his glass. “A toast to whomever is executed tonight,” he said, prompting the players to raise their glasses as well. “How are you guys feeling after that challenge?” he asked.

“I think a lot of us are still frustrated we ran out of time,” Tina stated.

Santana rolled her eyes. “Well if we hadn’t spent so much time debating what we were going to do or how much was enough or whether it was too much, we might have pulled it off! I cannot believe we were there for practically the entire day!”

Puck was quietly observing everyone, having remained quiet for the most part during the bulk of the challenge. He set his glass down on the table and cleared his throat. “I say we blame the person who was responsible for starting all those debates.” His eyes fell on Kurt for a moment.

“What are you looking at me for?” the pale man asked. “All I did was insist we should use candy. I felt it would be one of the easiest things to get near a pound,” he said. He hadn’t started a debate every time they had to choose what to try next. “To be fair, I think everyone equally is at fault because we all have our own opinions.”

“Except for you Puckerman,” Quinn said after a moment.

The rest of the table joined her in looking at the man.

“Hey, she’s right,” Mercedes said. “You didn’t say a single word practically the entire challenge. What is up with that? Too busy stewing in your anger or were you just content to watch everyone else sabotage the game for you?”

“That’s two challenges in a row you’ve had some suspicious behavior Puck,” Sam brought up. The others all stared at Puck once more.

“Lay off it,” Puck spit out, before stabbing a carrot on his plate and shoving it in his mouth, effectively ending the accusatory party.

Will cleared his throat. “Well players, tonight you face your third execution. And tonight, no one has an exemption so it’s anyone’s demise. Good luck.”

One by one the players went in to take the quiz. Ten questions about the mole.

Question One: Is the mole male or female?

Question Two: Did the mole test their willpower by having to sit on a bicycle seat?

Question Three: How long did the mole sit on the bicycle seat?

Question Four: In the Relay game, what place order did the mole run in?

Question Five: Did the mole beat their champion opponent in the Relay game?

Question Six: Did the mole correctly weigh an item during the Money For Pounds Game?

Question Seven: What item did the mole insist be weighed during the Money For Pounds Game?

Question Eight: Who, out of the remaining players, is the mole closest to?

Question Nine: What color are the mole’s eyes?

Question Ten: Who is the mole?

When everyone had locked in their answers, the results were calculated and every player felt the tension as they filed into their seats at the relay stadium.

Will was standing beside the TV screen with the mole logo, his hands clasped behind his back. He watched them all settle into their seats.

“Good evening and welcome to your third execution,” he said. “The player who scored the lowest on the quiz will be executed. In the event of a tie, the player who answered the questions in the slowest time, will be executed. In a moment, I will tap your picture on the screen to gain access to your results. If the screen turns green, you are safe and can continue playing. If the screen turns red, you are the mole’s third victim. You must take your bag and leave the game immediately. No one has earned an exemption tonight, therefore everyone is at risk.” He looked around at the lot of them. “Would anyone like to go first?

Puck raised his hand, surprising the rest of the players, though some of them were even more suspicious by his eagerness to go first.

“Puck,” Will said, tapping his picture and waiting for it to load, before pressing the button to access Puck’s results. Tension hung in the air.

The screen flashed green, and it didn’t surprise anyone since many of them were now questioning whether Puck was the mole or not. He glanced around at them, looking a bit smug, his eyes falling on a few of the other players randomly.

“Rachel.”

It wasn’t until he said her name that Rachel realized she was trembling. She wasn’t ready to leave, even if it meant she wouldn’t have to try and play longer without Finn there. She still wanted to get to know the man better.

“Go on then,” she said, gripping the arms of her chair as Will tapped her picture. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the screen and her packed bag as she waited for her results.

The screen flashed green. Rachel sighed in relief, visibly relaxing in her seat. This left the remaining players with a one out of eight chance of being the one to go home.

“Kurt,” Will chose next.

Blaine was sitting in the seat next to Kurt and he instinctively grabbed a hold of the pale man’s hand, trying to lend him his support. Kurt glanced at him gratefully and squeezed the other’s hand, tightly but gently, not wanting to let go.

Will tapped Kurt’s picture, and then the access results button the screen and they once more all waited with bated breath, Kurt squeezing Blaine’s hand just a little bit tighter.

Once again, the screen flashed green, and Kurt let out a noise. He relaxed his hold on the other man’s hand but refused to let go all the same. He was still in it.

“Brittany.”

The blonde girl turned her attention to him, having been quietly nuzzling Santana, trying to reassure her that everything would be alright. The one thing about this innocent girl, she didn’t seem to see the negative side of anything.

Will tapped the blonde’s picture and she felt Santana still a bit beside her. Santana didn’t want to be the first girl to go but she didn’t want to be the third girl to lose someone she had started to make a connection with either. She didn’t want Brittany to be the first girl either.

After a tense wait, the screen flashed green. Brittany was also safe. Santana hugged her as the girl clapped giddily.

“Sam.”

The blonde man sat up straight in his seat, the color had drained from his face. He’d been speaking with Mercedes as the two of them filed out here with the rest of the players, telling her he was not confident in his answers that night. She had tried to tell him that everything would be fine. And she sat beside him now, patting his hand.

He watched Will tap his picture and the access results. Tension hung for several moments. It felt like the wait this time was taking forever. And then finally it happened.

The screen flashed red.

“Sam, please grab your bag and come with me.” Sam stood up, looking at Mercedes with a look that seemed to say he wasn’t surprised. The dark skinned woman frowned at him. She felt terrible for him.

The rest of the players had gone quiet. No one was sure what had happened, but it might have been that Sam was leaning more towards the wrong person. They watched him follow Will out of the stadium.

“Another one bites the dust,” Puck commented, tone suggesting he could care less who went as long as it wasn’t him.

“You know,” Mercedes spoke up. “Whoever the mole is was right. You do need to get that stick out of your ass.” Clearly, the dark skinned diva was steamed, especially with the mohawk man’s attitude.

Puck looked at her and opened and closed his mouth with a retort, but must have thought better of it because he said nothing. None of the other players were coming to his defense either. It was currently eight against one. Well so be it then.

Will opened the door to the awaiting car for Sam. “I’m sorry to see you go Sam. It’s been fun having you here.”

Sam shook his hand and sighed. “I kind of figured it was my night tonight, even though I had hoped it wouldn’t be. I had a great time though. Never thought I would ever get to go to Paris so that was a treat.”

The host nodded as Sam got into the car. “Goodbye Sam.” The blonde man waved as the car drove away.  
  
_ I’m pretty sure right now, I’m not the only person who wants a certain someone gone. It will definitely work in my favor if everyone starts playing the mole just to confuse them, _ the mole thought.


	7. Driving Mister Hummel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here is chapter 7, inspired by the message the mole left for Kurt! LMAO! Now I know the game in this chapter may strike a bit unrealistically, but let's be real, how many of the plot lines in Glee were honestly realistic? xD
> 
> Also, because my French is still pretty broken, any actual French phrases have been translated by Google so apologies if they sound wrong. I knew Google translation is not entirely reliable.
> 
> A minor note, this chapter is nearly 6000 words long!
> 
> Comments and kudos make me smile!

“Sam may have been lead to read a bad attitude wrong as his thoughts on who the mole was, fell short and he was the mole’s third victim,” Will said from the center of the stadium. “Nine players remain in the game, now more confused than ever as they try to figure out the answer to that ultimate question. Who is the mole?”

“Twelve strangers, working together to reach a prize total of five hundred thousand dollars. But among them is a saboteur, a traitor, a double agent working for us to try and hinder the other players from banking the money. That person is the mole. Their task is simple. To win the money, they must answer one question. Who is the mole?

“It is Kurt Hummel?

“Tina Cohen-Chang?  
  
“Blaine Anderson?

“Quinn Fabray?

“Rachel Berry?

“Mercedes Jones?

“Noah Puckerman?

“Santana Lopez?  
  
“Or Brittany Pierce?

Like Finn and Mike’s profile before him, Sam’s had now been stamped with the word ‘Executed’ as it flashed across the screen in the intro.

Kurt sat alone in his hotel room that night, staring at the message the mole had left in his journal. He was well aware that it had to mean something. The messages left for Tina and Puck had obvious meanings, but Kurt’s was on the cryptic side. Sure, the words were easy to understand, but what did the message  _ mean _ ? He was having trouble turning in for the night because he couldn’t get it off his mind.

A sudden knock at the door pulled him from his musings and he shut his journal, setting it on the bedside table and sliding off the bed to go answer the door. He padded across the carpet in bare feet, wondering who could possibly be looking to talk to him at this late hour.

He unlocked the door and opened it just enough to peek out. “Blaine?” he questioned, glancing at the curly haired man who stood there in his pajamas looking sheepish.

“Um, hi,” Blaine said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Can I come in?” he asked then and Kurt immediately stepped aside to open the door wider and let him in. “Thanks.” Kurt shut the door behind him.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the visit, but what are you doing here?” the pale man asked, moving to sit down on the bed he had been using, the other bed looking lonely now that he had no roommate. Blaine invited himself to sit on it.

“I couldn’t sleep. Because I went to a private boarding school, I adapt to having a roommate rather easily. So now that he’s gone…” he trailed off.

“You’re having a bit of trouble readjusting again,” Kurt finished for him and Blaine nodded, biting his lip in slight embarrassment. It took all of Kurt’s own willpower not to crawl across his bed, lean forward, and take that bottom lip into his mouth because damn, Blaine biting it was so attractive. Instead, he kept his focus on the current situation. “Did you want to stay here tonight?” he asked. “I mean, just to ease it a little.”

“Is that allowed?” Blaine asked. Sure they’d had roommates with other contestants and they were allowed to hang out in each other’s rooms but the curly haired man wasn’t sure if they were allowed to sleep in someone else’s room.

Kurt shook his head. “I don’t know. But frankly, I don’t really care. You need help right now and I want to help you.” Blaine smiled sweetly at him.

“You are wonderful Kurt,” he said gently, a blush blooming up his cheeks. “As much as I would like to stay here, I think just talking for a while will be okay enough. If I get tired enough, I’m sure I’ll be able to go back and fall asleep.” Kurt could sense the disappointment in his tone, lacing his words with the feeling that he didn’t really want to leave at all. But he knew Blaine was trying to be courteous.

The pale man nodded. “Okay. If you have an iPod, playing music should help as well.”

“Thank you,” Blaine said with his own nod. Given the fact that he had said they could talk for a little while, he made himself more comfortable by lying on his stomach across the bed and gazing over at Kurt with a small smile on his face.

“So,” Kurt started, eyeing his journal for a second before glancing back at Blaine, not sure what to say.

“So,” Blaine repeated and after a beat, they both burst into laughter.

“Sorry,” Kurt apologized as his last few giggles lingered in the air. “I’m not used to late night conversation without a glass of warm milk. I’m not sure if they have that here and I’m not particularly interested in going down to ask in my pajamas.”

“It’s okay,” Blaine replied. “What should we talk about?”

Kurt thought for a moment and really, all he wanted to talk about was anything that didn’t have to do with the game. Sure, that message from the mole was rattling around in his brain, but he didn’t want to give Blaine the same issues. Not being able to sleep because he couldn’t figure it out.

“How about we just get to know each other better?” he finally asked.

“I’d like that,” Blaine replied with a grin.

So they stayed up and talked, discussing their likes and their dislikes and their amazement at how much they had in common. Like they had both been in the glee club at their high schools, both had a stint as a cheerleader, though Blaine’s didn’t last because he’d transferred to private school after an incident that he wasn’t ready to talk about. They both loved reading vogue and musicals and wanted to perform on Broadway one day. And while Kurt didn’t like football, Blaine did and was amazed to hear about the pale man’s time as the kicker on his school’s football team, which made him the reason they’d won a game that season.

Finally, Blaine was sleepy enough that he was having trouble keeping his eyes open and he stood up to take his leave, even if he didn’t really want to.

“Thank you Kurt,” he said as he stood in the open doorway. “You helped a lot.” Before Kurt could say anything, Blaine leaned forward and pecked a kiss very near the corner of Kurt’s mouth, leaving the pale man to gasp at him. Blaine smiled. “Goodnight,” he said sweetly, turning and walking off down the hallway. Kurt just stood there gaping for a moment. He found himself wishing that he could have just kissed Blaine for real and it took him a moment to get that out of his head before he finally shut the door and returned to bed.

Had Kurt known what was coming in the morning, he might have tried to get more sleep.

The next morning at the breakfast table, Will had a surprising announcement. “We will be leaving Paris tomorrow morning,” he said and everyone glanced around at each other, both excited and nervous that they would be leaving in the morning. At the same time, they all knew that the whole adventure would not simply take place in one city. None of them were sure where else they would be going.

“Where are we going?” Rachel asked, setting down the bit of mango she’d been eating.

Will looked around at them all and gave them an innocent looking smile. “All will be revealed when you get up in the morning,” he said. “Now, I have an important question.” Again, the players all glanced at each other. “Who here has ever bet on a race?”

Santana raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you expect us to be betting on horse races for money to add to the pot,” the Latina said. “Because that’s just really kind of...I don’t know, asking to do poorly on banking money today.”

“Not horse races, no,” the host replied. “And not the usual kind of betting either. If you’ll look around the table, you’ll notice that there are only eight of you at breakfast this morning.”

It was only as he said it that the players realized he was right. Someone was missing.

“Where’s Kurt?” Mercedes asked after a moment.

Will grinned. “Kurt was taken early this morning by production. He’s kind of what you’ll be betting on.”

Blaine suddenly looked very guilty for keeping Kurt up so late the night before. If he’d known he wouldn’t have gotten a whole lot of sleep, he might have just tried to stay put and get himself to sleep. “I hope he’s okay,” he said, pushing his eggs around on his plate.

“Well, he’s not in any danger if that’s what you’re worried about,” Will replied with a nod.

“If this involves racing, of course he’s in danger!” Rachel yelled. “Do you know how often those professionals crash?!”

“Hey man hands,” Santana bit out, glancing over at Blaine who was starting to lose the color in his tanned skin. “Cut it out! You’re worrying the sexy hobbit over there.” Rachel glanced at Blaine and gave him an apologetic look. The curly haired man just swallowed and nodded shakily.

Will cleared his throat. “You all will remember the message the mole left in Kurt’s journal yesterday, correct?” The players nodded. “Well, that message did have a meaning. And it’s what has brought us to today’s game. When the mole left that message for Kurt, they unknowingly - yes not even the mole knows everything - elected him to be the driver in this task. Production took Kurt to a race track early this morning, where he was suited up and given lessons from a professional driver.” He paused there to give everyone a chance to take it in.

It was Puck who spoke up. “Let me get this straight. Kurt is going to be racing in a real race with other professional racers?” he asked.

The host shook his head. “No. Asking him to drive in a race with professionals after a few lessons would indeed be dangerous. So he’ll be racing with other amateur racers, from beginners to novice. So they won’t be speeding as fast.”

Rachel still looked as if she was unsure about this idea. She bit her lip. “I don’t suppose there’s any deal we can make to get him out of this? Like paying twenty thousand from the pot to skip this test,” she suddenly suggested.

The whole table turned and looked at her. If that wasn’t the most molish thing Rachel had ever said, they weren’t sure what would be.

An uncomfortable silence followed the petite brunette’s words and she suddenly found herself kind of shrinking behind the table. She was quite sure that she might have just made herself a target in some way. Would people think she was the mole? That would work in her favor. Or would they think she was being too obvious she couldn’t be the mole? That wouldn’t work in her favor.

“Never mind,” she finally said in a quiet voice, strange coming out of someone normally so loud and talkative. “Forget I said anything.

Another moment of silence followed before everyone seemed to decide to try and forget about it and glanced back at Will. Even the host had been stunned into silence after Rachel’s outburst. He shook his head.

“No Rachel. I’m sorry, but you can’t pay off to skip a task. It’s part of the game. Trying to bank yourself some money for the prize of knowing the answer.”

Rachel merely nodded but said nothing. Her breakfast sat abandoned in front of her. Clearly, she had done something that she might have thought impossible. She had embarrassed herself.

“So what do you call this game?” Santana said to change the subject. “Driving Mister Hummel?” she laughed at her own joke. But when she found no one else laughing, she quickly quieted down.

Will stood from the table and set his napkin on top of his empty plate. “If you will all follow me,” he said. “We have a race to attend.”

As the remaining players and Will made their way out of the hotel to head for the track, Kurt was currently arguing just a little bit with his instructor.

“You can’t race without a helmet,” the man said, his accent a bit on the heavy side but Kurt could still understand him anyway. The pale man frowned at the driver and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Haven’t you people ever heard of helmet hair? And why am I the one who has to do this?” he asked. If he was being honest with himself, Kurt was terrified. On the other hand though, he thought that maybe there might be an exemption somewhere involved with his being singled out as the driver. However, he’d already received one exemption in the game and this would only be execution number four tomorrow night. Kurt wasn’t sure it would look good on his part if he were to win two of four possible exemptions. He didn’t need another one, not yet anyway. Besides, he had a pretty good idea who the mole might be. The way he thought of it, it was better to make a list of the more unassuming people than the ones who were too obvious. But that was just his opinion. The obvious choice was almost always the wrong choice.

After a bit more pestering by the driver, he sighed in defeat and took the helmet from the man. He would never forgive producers if he got helmet hair. But there were two reasons to be wearing the helmet. One was so he blended in with the other racers, to make it more challenging for the other players, a producer had told him. The other was because it was a safety regulation. And just those words had Kurt picturing those cars that slammed into walls trying to race around the track. He suppressed a shudder at the idea.

Sliding the helmet down over his coif, Kurt fastened the strap under his chin. The visor on the front of the helmet that covered his face, made everything appear shades darker, like he was wearing sunglasses.

“How do you people see out of this thing?” he asked, squinting his eyes and trying to adjust. No wonder they tended to crash into walls while speeding! It was like the shade of sunglasses magnified ten times. Or so it felt to him.

“We spend time practicing by consistently seeing in the dark,” the instructor replied, leading Kurt to a car that was marked with a number five, which was painted in silver. Kurt realized then that the number on the car, matched the number on the back of his racing uniform. He shrugged and continued the conversation with the instructor.

“Isn’t that bad for your eyesight?” he asked.

The instructor was preparing the car for Kurt to slip into, which he now realized he was going to have to climb in through the window and he wondered why the hell race car drivers couldn’t just use the doors.

“Only if you’re trying to force yourself to read in the dark,” the instructor replied. He tapped the open window of the car and looked back at Kurt. “In you get then,” he said.

Kurt drew a deep breath and was silently thanking a God he didn’t believe in, that he was so fit and lithe. He managed to climb into the car through the window without much difficulty. And for a moment, he sat there, a bit overwhelmed. If you had told him that one day, Kurt would find himself sitting behind the wheel of a race car, he might have stopped and stared at you like he felt you must have been living on Mars. What reason did Kurt Hummel have to ever think he would end up behind the wheel of a race car? He swallowed hard at the notion. It was happening and the pale man would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified.

The stands for the race were starting to fill in, with Will now leading the remaining eight players into the front row. They could all see the cars rolling up to the starting line and the crowd was already loud and ready for the race to start.

“Here’s the deal,” Will said, standing in front of the railings that separated the bleachers from the track. “Behind me, twenty amateur racers and one mole player are lining up at the starting line. That makes twenty-one racers in this race. They will be racing up to twenty laps around the track. With every completed lap, one of the real amateur racers will be leaving the race, pulling out at the pit stop. Your job is to figure out which car has Kurt behind the wheel. For every real racer still on the track when you identify your fellow player correctly, I will add a thousand dollars to the pot. If you manage to correctly identify him before the first lap is over, you’ll get twenty thousand dollars.”

Santana arched an eyebrow. “Let me get this straight,” she said. “You expect us to figure out which car Kurt is in merely by seeing how good a racer they are?” She didn’t think this was going to be very possible at all.

Will leaned against the railing. “It might be easier than you think. The amateurs are a mix of beginner and novice racers. However, all of them have had enough lessons to be ready for this. Kurt has only had a few lessons this morning.”

The players all glanced at each other, dissolving into a discussion about how they wanted to do this. They still weren’t sure if it was even possible.

“Kurt has to be a careful driver, right?” Mercedes asked. “He strikes me as the kind of person who would be very adamant about following road rules.”

“In which case he should be driving like a snail,” Rachel remarked and the others looked at her. “What?” she asked.

“Even if that were true,” Blaine started. “It wouldn’t be safe for him to try and take his time. All the other cars will be zooming by him. He’d be in more danger trying to be Driving Miss. Daisy than trying to keep up.”

The group was quiet before Tina noticed something. “Hey,” she said. “Where’d Will go?” They all glanced around for him.

“Twenty bucks says he’s offering Kurt an exemption right now,” Puck retorted. No one wanted to bet against him because they realized that he was probably right. Of course, Kurt would be offered an exemption. What if he took it? That would make him look like a guilty party because he’d already had one.

“Damn the mole,” Santana bit. “If they’d known about this, they might have given the message to someone who hadn’t had an exemption.”

Quinn shook her head. “I don’t necessarily believe that. I mean, I think the mole could have given the chance of an exemption purposely to someone they wanted to keep in the game.”

Rachel arched an eyebrow. “You think there are people the mole is trying to keep around longer?” she asked.

“Well sure,” Quinn said. “The mole would obviously have targets, so why not keepsakes as well? I’m sure they’d be interested in keeping Tina if that message she got in her journal was anything to go by.”

“That could still just be generosity,” Tina said. “It could have gone to anyone.”

“Well, certainly not me,” Puck scoffed.

“Hey, no more being mean please,” Brittany put in. The girl usually didn’t contribute much to the conversation, choosing instead to remain by Santana’s side and being content with just listening. Puck turned to glare at her, but Santana again, stopped him with a look.

“The bottom line,” the fiery Latina said, “Is that Kurt is likely being offered an exemption as we speak.”

The players certainly knew the game well. Before he joined the racers pulling up to the starting line, Kurt was pulled over to the side where Will was waiting for him. “Hello Kurt,” the host said.

Before he could say anything more, Kurt held up his gloved hand. “I don’t want the exemption,” he said, voice coming in clear despite the muffling from the helmet. Will was taken aback, not sure why the other would outright refuse an offer that had yet to even be made to him. Before he could question the man’s decision, Kurt answered him. “I’ve already had one exemption and this is only the fourth execution we’re going into,” he explained. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to have had half the exemptions so far in the game. If this decision comes back to bite me in the butt, than so be it. At least I’ll know I went down playing a fair game.”

Will was quiet for a moment before he simply nodded. “You know that means you absolutely have to race?” he stated.

Kurt turned his head towards him. “What?” he asked.

“To get the exemption, you would have had to agree to step out of the car and let a professional amateur replace you. Meaning, you wouldn’t actually be racing at all, leading to the group making no money for this game. See, their job is to figure out which of the twenty-one racers is you. They have twenty laps to do it. For every amateur still in the race by the time they correctly guess, I’ll add a thousand dollars to the pot, for a possible total of twenty thousand dollars.”

Kurt seemed to think about this for a moment. “Maybe I can make it easy on them then. Make myself really obvious,” he suggested with a laugh.

Will nodded slightly. “You can, but that is both physically dangerous and a risk with people knowing for absolute certain, you are not the mole. It can be seen as you purposely trying to bank as much money as you can. In which case, you will probably drop very low on everyone’s suspect list.”

A sigh came from under the helmet. “That’s not really a place I want to be. Especially when it’s still early in the game yet. Guess I’m giving it my all.” He tightened the strap on his helmet and flexed his hands around the wheel.

“Good luck Kurt,” Will said, saluting him and walking off.

Kurt snorted because yeah, he was going to need that luck. He was the last person they should have put behind the wheel of a race car.

It was only minutes later that Kurt and the last of the amateur racers had pulled into position behind the starting line. The pale man glanced at the cars to either side of him and the one directly in front. All of them were spewing clumps of exhaust, suggesting the drivers were revving the engines. Although he didn’t approve of polluting the environment, Kurt figured he might as well do the same, if only to blend in with the other racers. He stepped gingerly on the gas, enough to rev the engine like his fellow racers, but not enough to move the car.

Back in the stands, the players were all staring at the cars waiting behind the starting line. Some of them looked positively terrified, Rachel and Mercedes, particularly. A few were looking on in anticipation, Santana and Puck. And the rest were somewhere in the middle, more focused on figuring out which car was Kurt.

A voice suddenly came over the loudspeaker, spewing words in French, which most of them quickly tuned out because they couldn’t understand what the speaker was saying anyway. However, had they paid attention, they might have picked out the mention of Kurt’s name  _ and _ the number of the car he was driving.

“Et enfin, présenter M. Kurt Hummel dans la voiture numéro cinq! C'est sa première course officielle! Maintenant, que le compte à rebours commence!” the announcer finished. His words would only be useful if the players picked up on it and were able to figure out what he’d said. But none of them had really been paying attention.

All eyes went to the lights above the starting line as in a manner of three, two, one, they went from red to yellow to green. And on green, the racers sped off. The commentary started up almost immediately, and it was also in French.

“Great!” Rachel spit, placing her hands on her hips. “How are we supposed to figure out what’s going on when we can’t even understand the language of the commentary?!”

Santana raised an eyebrow. “Just pay attention to the actual race man hands,” she snapped. “If you’re that bothered by the commentary, maybe you should have learned French.”

“It’s too bad Kurt’s the driver,” Tina stated. “He would be able to tell us what the commentator is saying.” They all sighed.

Puck was the next to speak. “So how are we supposed to figure this out?” he asked, watching the cars all approach the first turn of the lap.

“Will did say that despite being amateurs, all the real racers had enough lessons to be ready for this, while Kurt only took a few this morning. So I guess we look for whatever driver seems to be having the most trouble or being the most cautious,” Mercedes said. “Because you know that race or not, Kurt probably would be overcautious with the driving. I’m sure he wants to avoid getting hurt as much as we want him to.”

“Maybe he should get hurt,” Puck said next, eyeing one of the cars. They all stared at him. “One less person in this whole shebang we have to beat.” The rest of the players were reaching their last nerve with Puck’s attitude. Clearly, he was still bitter about everything that had happened in the last couple of days. “Besides, he can’t win a driving race by wiggling his ass at his opponents,” he added, still remembering how Kurt had managed to win the relay. He felt like it had been too easy for Kurt. Was it just his dumb luck that he’d been racing against the gay champion? Or was he the mole and had set that up on purpose? But then, wouldn’t he have lost on purpose? Puck was so confused by his own observations. As a result, he went silent and watched the race.

Down on the track, Kurt was feeling the pressure as he tried to weave in and out of the other cars, keeping as much distance between himself and them as he could. But he suddenly found himself skidding across the track as another car slammed into him. The driver had lost control when another driver cut him off out of nowhere. Kurt could hear the vibration of the commentary in his ears.

“And number five has been hit into a tailspin across the track,” the announcer said in French. Kurt shut his eyes, wanting the spinning motion to stop and hoping he didn’t slam into the wall.

As luck would have it, the car came to a halt just shy of colliding with the barrier and he now realized he was just below the part of the stands where the other players stood. He thought about trying to signal them, so they could get it right and then he would no longer have to race anymore. But was that a wise move? Wouldn’t it result in the same situation purposely driving slowly would have?

Reluctantly, he decided it was too big a risk and instead, made a show of pulling back out into the group of speeding cars. As the rounded back to the starting line a bit later, one of their number veered off the course.

“So it’s not number ten,” Quinn stated, watching the car drive off as they reached the end of lap one. “Which means we just lost one thousand dollars.”

“Do you think it’s number five?” Tina asked. Her eyes had been on that car since it had nearly collided with the wall right below them, more so because she was fearful of the driver.

Santana shook her head. “Are you kidding? Kurt’s no way trained enough to come out of a tailspin like that and right back into the race. That had to be a real racer!”

“There’s no way of knowing for sure,” Blaine commented. He, like Tina, had been watching car number five with concern. Santana narrowed her eyes at him.

“Why would you say that? All these other racers have more experience than him.”

Blaine glanced at the Latina. “Maybe so,” he said. “But some people just pick up things really easily. I had a long discussion with Kurt last night. Did you know that even though he hates football, he’s a natural born kicker? He was the reason his team won one game in his sophomore year. They sucked because their coach at the time couldn’t really stand football either and was terrible at his job.”

The rest of the group looked at Blaine in awe for a moment. He had a point, you couldn’t just judge someone’s ability to handle something based on a few facts. In which case, maybe car number five was Kurt. But no one was ready to submit that as a guess. Not without being absolutely certain.

By the time Kurt was racing around his tenth lap, halfway through the total number of laps he might have to do, the group was even more confused. So far, all of the remaining cars had shown a reason to be Kurt and none of them had stood out enough to be satisfyingly convincing. They now were out half the total money they could have won.

This was when Will interrupted.

“Alright guys, I’m going to make you an offer. Admit defeat now and I’ll give you the ten thousand whether you would have guessed correctly or not. Kurt will no longer have to risk his life by racing, and you guys guarantee some money goes into the pot. If you decide to keep trying and still don’t have a guess by the end of the race, that’s it. No money will be added to the pot. So what’s it going to be guys? Guarantee ten thousand dollars or possibly walk away from the track with nothing?”

The group looked at each other. “Let’s face it,” Mercedes spoke up. “At this point, we are no closer to being certain of our decision than we were when the race started.” The others nodded in agreement.

“Oh come on!” Rachel said. “Do we not have faith in ourselves to know Kurt enough?” She rounded on Blaine. “What about you Blaine? You seem to know more about him than anyone!”

It was surprisingly Santana who answered for him. “That doesn’t mean he knows what kind of driver Kurt is,” she said. “Just because you know someone as a person, doesn’t mean you can determine by their personality, how well they would fair in a race.”

Even more surprising, Puck was nodding to the Latina’s words. “She’s right. Knowing someone won’t tell you how good they are at something necessarily. Especially if they don’t even know themselves.”

There were a few mutters between them all before Rachel sighed in defeat and looked back at Will. “We’ll take the guaranteed ten thousand.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. The players all nodded. “Okay then. I’ll go let them know and you can keep your eyes on the off-ramp because the next driver coming off, will be Kurt.”

It was several moments before they noticed the number five car pulling off the track and it was moving at the fastest speed it had yet, suggesting the driver was all too happy to no longer be in the race.   


“I knew we should have stuck with five!” Tina declared.

Another several moments later and Will was approaching them, with Kurt at his side. The pale man was holding the racing helmet under his arm, glad to get to take it off, and even more glad he hadn’t gotten helmet hair.

“Are you okay?” were the first words out of Blaine’s mouth, clearly referring to the incident in the first lap.

Kurt nodded. “Though my heart was beating out of my chest and when I saw I was near you guys, I considered making myself obvious just so I could get out of the race.”

“Dude, I can’t believe you survived a tailspin and then continued racing!” Puck said. And instead of his angry demeanor he’d had the past few days, he sounded in awe, like he was impressed. “I’m not even sure I would have done that.”

The pale man looked at him. “If I’d had to leave the race, we would have nothing because I wouldn’t be there for you to find. I was just lucky I stopped short of that wall. And you guys should all be grateful because I chose to risk my life for the chance at more money, rather than be greedy and pull from even participating to earn an exemption.”

“I knew it! I knew you were going to get offered an exemption!” Santana cried out. “Wait a second, you didn’t even consider taking it?” She was slightly surprised.

Kurt shook his head. “No. If I hadn’t already had one, it might have been a different story, but I decided earlier that if I was offered an exemption, I wouldn’t take it, because I didn’t feel right having earned half the exemptions in the game so far. If I’m executed tomorrow night because of it, well, at least I played fair.” He smirked after a moment. “But don’t expect it to happen again.” They all kind of laughed at that.

“Well, I say you’ve had moderate success at this game,” Will said. “By giving up, you guaranteed Kurt’s safety and ten thousand dollars to the pot. And I should mention, the same would have been true had Kurt accepted the exemption. But after today, your total is up to one hundred and nineteen thousand dollars. Tomorrow will be another day with possibly another game to play.” He winked and started leading the way out.

“Wait, what did he mean possibly?” Kurt asked as he fell into step beside Blaine.

“We’re leaving Paris in the morning,” Blaine said, subconsciously taking Kurt’s hand with his own. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” Kurt only smiled at him.

The players all left the track thinking about what could possibly be next. Will’s extra word about the game tomorrow had them wondering if they would get a reprieve and there would be no execution the next night. But they kind of doubted it anyway.

There was really only one person who knew what the meaning of the statement was.

That person, was the mole.


	8. The Fourth Execution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long guys! I'm still here and I'm still working on it! Lol. The game in this chapter is a little tamer and it took me a bit to come up with. But I kind of got the idea from a game I have on my app.
> 
> As such, if you have never listened to K-Pop before, I recommend you look up the groups and the songs mentioned in this chapter. Might be fun to see if you can picture certain people singing them. :)
> 
> Remember, comments and kudos make me smile!

Santana paced her hotel room, the one that she was sharing with Brittany, her arms folded over her chest. There were so many things going through the Latina’s head and Brittany was watching her pace the room. Or more like, she was watching her feet, trying to make sure the other woman wasn’t boring a hole in the floor.

“Why do you do that Sanny?” the blonde finally asked, raising her eyes to the other woman’s face. Santana stopped pacing to look at her.

“What could he have meant by possibly?” the dark haired woman asked. Brittany blinked once, twice, three times, clearly not having expected those words to come out of Santana’s mouth. The fierce woman just threw her hands up in the air. Of course Brittany wouldn’t have the answer. She was just as in the dark as everyone else. Well, unless of course, she was the mole.

The thought gave Santana pause and for a moment, she stared at Brittany questioningly. The idea that Brittany was the mole might have seemed silly to anyone else. But she wouldn’t put it past the girl to play it off very well actually. What better cover for being a traitor than acting like you were dumber than dirt? The fact that Brittany was blonde worked to her advantage in this case. Sure, it wasn’t really nice to say that because she was blonde, she was stupid. That was stereotypical. But Santana suddenly realized it was a brilliant tactic for playing the mole.

“Brittany?” she said after a moment, moving to kneel in front of the other. “Do you know what Will meant by possibly?”

The blonde was still a moment, before she slowly shook her head. “No. Maybe he was implying we might get a day off. I could use a day off. All this guessing who is the furry creature who lives in a hole is hard work. Especially since there is no one I can cheat off of.” The girl scratched her head. “Also, no one here is actually furry,” she commented.

That gave Santana pause. It seemed that Brittany might think they were actually looking for a real mole. As though one of the players was wearing a human costume. But then, how would they be talking? The Latina wasn’t entirely sure what went on in Brittany’s head, but for some reason, she found the innocent blonde girl to be endearing rather than different.

It was then that she realized it was kind of ridiculous to consider the idea that Brittany might be the mole. At this point, that was something she felt the blonde wouldn’t try to keep from her anyway. She’d probably let it slip. Not intentionally of course. But if it were the case, Santana knew that she would have this game in the bag.

She came and sat beside Brittany, wrapping her arms around the blonde woman. Brittany only hugged her back.

“I care about you too Sanny,” she said, without being prompted. Santana was much better at showing her feelings with actions, rather than with words. Well, when she wasn’t blasting people viciously anyway.

“I know Brit, I know,” Santana replied, just hugging the woman tightly. There was no way she was ever letting Brittany leave her life after this. If nothing else, the mole introduced her to someone who was quickly becoming the most important staple in her life.

Everyone was packed when they met for breakfast the next morning. They all knew that they were going to be leaving Paris. And some of them were going to find it hard to say goodbye. Kurt being one of them. Paris was one of the places he had always dreamed of going and now that he was here, it was really hard to leave.

“I want to live here,” he said to Blaine, who merely smiled at him and pecked his cheek, something that was quickly becoming a fixture. Kurt definitely didn’t want to lose it.

Will smiled around at them all. “I trust you have been enjoying yourselves here in Paris,” he said and there were murmurs of agreement from around the table. “But I’m sure you’re also interested to know where we are going.” Again, there were murmurs of agreement.

“I hope we aren’t going really far,” Rachel said. “I mean, traveling a great distance could put us a day behind on the game, which would mean we won’t be earning any money today, which in turn, may mean there is no execution tonight.”

Santana’s head perked up at that. Rachel had supplied an answer for a question that was still nagging her, even this morning. What did Will mean by possibly?

It was Blaine who spoke up next though, giving his head a short shake. “Not necessarily. We could be playing a game on the plane, though I’m not sure how easy that might be,” he said with a chuckle.

Rachel frowned, lowering her fork to her plate in thought. She hadn’t thought of that.

Will was enjoying their thoughts. “Well,” he finally said. “We aren’t going too far. We’re just hopping a train across the English channel and heading into London. It takes about two hours and twenty minutes.”

There were more murmurs around the table. London was another place filled with touristy spots that anybody would be in awe to be at. The kind of things that were a can’t believe I’m seeing this type of attraction.

“Dude,” Puck said. “What the hell are we going to do in London?” Everyone just stared at him for a moment.

But Will was ready with an answer. “I thought we might try some karaoke,” he said casually.

His words had the intended effect, as the players all glanced around in confusion. They were going all the way to London just to sing karaoke? This really was going to be their pleasure day, wasn’t it?

Little did they know, it wasn’t simply going to be a day of karaoke. That was too easy. And nothing in The Mole could ever be too easy.

“Now, if you’re all finished, please follow me to the van waiting outside to take us to the train station.” Will said after a moment.

No one said a word, surprisingly. All of them were turning in their own minds what this could possibly be about. No one looked like they had any clue, which meant whoever the mole was, must be a good actor, but if you wanted to base it that way, they all were being good actors because they all were genuinely confused. At least they all appeared to be.

On the train, Kurt sat secluded at one end of the car, hiding himself from the rest of the players. He was using his journal, but it wasn’t notes he was trying to hide. Instead, he was sitting there drawing silly little hearts like a lovesick teenager. He hummed to himself, shading in the outline of the letter B he had just fancified in his heart. That was when that B showed up.

“Hey!” Blaine said with a smile, startling Kurt, who quickly snapped his journal shut. The curly haired man glanced at the book for a moment, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. “Sorry,” he added. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He dropped down into the seat beside the pale man, who turned his head to look at him, a welcoming expression on his face. Even if Blaine was the last person he wanted to see what he’d been working on, he still was the only person he didn’t mind interrupting him.

“It’s okay. I guess I was kind of engrossed,” he replied with a small nervous chuckle. Blaine smiled gently.

“What are you doing over here all by yourself?” the shorter man asked.

Kurt sighed. “I guess I just needed a moment. Maybe it’s weird because I’ve had a room to myself since Finn was executed, but you know how it is sometimes,” he said and to his relief, Blaine nodded.

“I can leave you alone if you’d like,” he offered.

The pale man quickly shook his head. “Oh no, it’s okay. I like having you here.” Blaine grinned, perhaps one of those grins that made you look stupidly happy, but it was there all the same.

“Well I like being here.”

The two of them elapsed into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, with the other players at the other end of the car. There was no one to bother them, no one to interrupt if they were to have a serious discussion or anything of the sort.

“Hey Kurt?” Blaine questioned gently after a moment. Kurt tore his eyes from the window and looked back at him.

“Yeah Blaine?” he said.

There was a beat before Blaine closed the distance between them and covered Kurt’s mouth with his. Kurt let out a surprised squeak, but was all too happy to kiss back the moment he realized what was happening. He raised a hand to cup Blaine’s cheek.

It was several moments before they broke apart and Kurt stared at him in awe.

“Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you forever,” Blaine said, prompting a smile to bloom across Kurt’s face as they both leaned in for another kiss. Maybe those hearts he was drawing weren’t such a daydream after all.

When they got off the train in London, Blaine lead Kurt down the stairs, hand in hand and they followed the rest of the group. No one seemed to bat an eye, but then, Santana and Brittany were also holding hands. They all followed Will in silence as he lead them out to yet another van.

“I can’t believe we’re going to do karaoke!” Rachel cheered, breaking the silence as the van pulled away from the station. “I love singing! I’m a star you know! Got all the solos in my high school show choir.”

For some people, Rachel was starting to revert to her annoying self. Perhaps she was getting over the fact that Finn was gone. Or maybe it was just her competitive edge, her need to win that seemed to have her pulling back from her dull drums. Unfortunately, this was not really good news for the other players, mainly those who were easily annoyed by the small brunette.

“Is that so Rachel?” Will asked and everyone’s attention went to the host as the van turned onto another street. Suddenly, they knew that something was coming. “Would you be willing to pass up the opportunity to sing in exchange for an exemption?” the host asked after a moment.

Well, that was something that no one really saw coming. This put Rachel in a tough spot. Since she’d already had an exemption once, like Kurt, choosing to accept this one could make her look greedy. On the other hand, if she went ahead and declined the exemption, as Kurt had, it could make her look like the mole. If she wasn’t the mole, once again, that would work in her favor. If she was the mole, well, it may not work in her favor, especially if she had a target.

Before Rachel could make a decision, Will spoke to them as a whole. “Actually, I’m going to offer this for everyone. I want you to all open your journals to a blank page. On that page, simply write either ‘yes’ or ‘no’ along with your name and fold it up. You’re going to put the pages in this hat. The first two people I pull out who have written yes on their papers will earn exemptions, and do not have to sing tonight. However, everyone else, will have to sing at karaoke, no exceptions. If you still refuse, it will cost you a five thousand dollar penalty.”

“So, we’re basically singing for money,” Puck said. “That’s too easy. If all we have to do is finish a song, why should we give it up for an exemption?”

Will let a small smile cross his face. “Oh, who said it would be as easy as ABC and 123?” he asked. But he didn’t say anything more than that. Instead, he gestured for them to write down their decisions. A part of him was probably thinking, they were all going to put ‘yes’, which was why only the first two random people whose names came out of the hat that said yes would get the exemptions.

Kurt had no intentions to pass up the opportunity to sing. Now that he was in a profession that had nothing to do with music, he had little time to indulge in his still favorite pastime. He hastily wrote out the word ‘no’ on his paper. He hadn’t noticed that Blaine was watching him and Blaine made the same decision Kurt did.

They all handed their papers over and Will mixed them up in the hat. He reached in and pulled out a slip. “Rachel,” he read off as he unfolded it. “You wrote no. So an exemption isn’t worth missing an opportunity to sing for you?” he asked her.

“Of course not. Nothing is worth passing up a chance to show off my voice,” the girl replied. Santana glared at her and rolled her eyes.

Will reached back in the hat and pulled out another slip. “Brittany.” He paused for a moment as he stared at the slip of paper. “You just put an X,” he said.

The blonde girl shrugged. “Doesn’t X mean no?” she asked. Santana patted the girl’s hand, and no one else said anything.

Another slip was pulled from the hat after a beat. “Kurt, you also wrote no,” Will read off.

Kurt nodded his head. “I used to sing a lot too. I was also in my high school’s show choir. Even wanted to be on Broadway. But because there were so few lead roles I’d be a shoe-in for, despite the fact that I am very good, I picked a career to fall back on and just ended up in it full time. I needed to make sure I was doing something to make a living, after struggling so long to make it on Broadway.”

“Why didn’t you apply to NYADA?” Rachel asked.

“I did,” Kurt replied. “And even though I nailed my audition as a finalist, I didn’t get in.” Rachel looked slightly appalled that something like this could even happen.

They were all silent for a moment before Will cleared his throat and drew another slip of paper. “Quinn,” he read off. “Congratulations Quinn, you earn an exemption and will not have to sing tonight.” He turned the paper around to show that she’d written ‘yes’ on the slip.

People looked at Quinn in surprise and she shrugged. “Singing isn’t really my thing,” she said simply, though it felt like she was shutting out something she didn’t want to tell the rest of them. That was okay though. She didn’t have to, if she didn’t want to.

“So many no’s,” Will said, as he glanced at the next paper. “Either people really love to sing, or they are just being so generous today,” he added, showing everyone Blaine’s paper, which sported a ‘no’.   


_ Or everyone is trying to confuse a certain someone to make them think they’re the mole, _ the mole thought, eyeing a particular person in the van.

Will pulled out another slip of paper. “Santana,” he read off the slip. “Congratulations. You will also not have to sing tonight and you have earned an exemption, which means you cannot be executed tonight.”

The Latina smirked and slapped a high five with Quinn, both of them sitting back in the van as now they wouldn’t have to worry about trying to sing to a bunch of nobodies in some club. Will set the hat aside.

“That makes two. With Quinn and Santana both earning exemptions, the rest of you will have to sing tonight. And every player who successfully completes their song, will earn five thousand dollars for the pot, for a total of thirty-five thousand dollars to be added.”

Puck wrinkled his nose, still trying to figure out what could be so hard about singing a song. All they had to do was sing the complete song and they would earn five thousand dollars apiece. There had to be a catch.

“Okay, if this isn’t easy, what the hell is the catch?"

Will grinned as the van pulled up outside a place and everyone grabbed their bags and climbed out. “Well, the good news is that, all you have to do is finish the song. The bad news, well, you won’t be singing in English.”

The entire group hesitated just outside the building and glanced at each other. It was Santana who spoke up first.

“So they have to sing in Spanish? I could have aced this,” she stated, now a little bit disappointed that she had opted out for an exemption.

Will looked at her. “I said they wouldn’t be singing in English. I never said it would necessarily be Spanish. Maybe it’s a language they know, maybe not. But the challenge is to get through the song best as you can. If you earn decent applause, you get the money. If you don’t, you win nothing.”

Again, the entire group glanced at each other, wondering what language they could possibly be faced with. They followed Will into the building, all quiet, only to have the audience cheer for them as they passed through to the front.

A man was standing on the small stage at the front of the room and he smiled at the players as they all took their seats. “Welcome, are you ready to play our singing game?” the man asked, his British accent lilting through the room.

They all nodded, not even sure what they were about to be dealt. The man grabbed a bowl from the table beside the stage, where someone else was ready to set up the music. He jumped off the front of the stage and held the bowl out to Brittany. She gave him a funny look, not sure what he intended her to do.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged her. “Each piece of paper in this bowl has a number on it. That number represents the position in which you will perform,” he explained. Brittany clapped happily as Santana gently patted her shoulder from her seat behind her. The blonde reached into the bowl and pulled out a piece of paper. She unfolded it to find the number three written in the center. “Third, good choice!” the man said, moving onto Puck who was seated beside her.

When they all had their numbers, the man jumped back on the stage and grabbed a mic sitting on the table.

“Good day ladies and gentlemen and welcome to our lovely karaoke game!” The audience behind them cheered. The players still didn’t know what they were singing, or what language it was going to be in. “Those of you who are familiar with the rules will remember that the contestants will not choose their own songs. Each night has a different language barrier and the challenge is to sing the song to the best of your ability. Now normally, we do this in rounds, with the person garnering the most applause moving to the next round. However, today we have some extra special guests playing with us. Instead of progressing through rounds, they will be winning money for a group pot.” The audience oohed and ahhed at his words. “And now, I would like to introduce our special guest host, Will Schuester!”

The players watched Will hop onto the stage and take the mic from the British host with a shake of the hand. Kurt did not miss the way the other man was leering at him, almost as though he thought Kurt was a delicious piece of meat. Blaine didn’t miss it either and instinctively, he took ahold of Kurt’s hand and laced their fingers, one eye on the British host, who quickly turned his head away.

“Hang on a second!” Rachel suddenly shouted, standing from her seat. “Forgive me Mr. Host sir, but you didn’t tell us what language we are singing in!”

The British man glanced back at her and grinned. “You’re about to find out, with the first performer.” He nodded to Will who glanced at the players and then the audience.

“First to sing for a shot at five thousand dollars, is Tina!” Will said with a grin. Tina stood to encouraging applause, a little nervous about the whole thing and still not having a clue what she was up against. “Your song Tina, is called Playing With Fire.”

Tina stood at the mic, looking at the screen with an expression on her face that said the title of the song sounded familiar to her. But it wasn’t until she heard the music that she recognized it and she knew at least she would have this in the bag. Playing With Fire was a song by a K-Pop group called Blackpink. They had to sing in Korean.

And so she sang and as she did, the rest of the players felt their mouths drop open. Not only was Tina a good singer, but she seemed to be having no trouble at all with her pronunciation. And even hearing it, they still weren’t quite sure what language it was.

There was a resounding applause from everyone in the room when she finished and the Asian girl bowed and took her seat again next to Blaine. The curly haired man leaned over and whispered to her. “What language was that?”

“Korean,” Tina whispered back and Blaine frowned.

“Well damn,” the curly haired man said, fidgeting in his seat. Korean was not a language he knew even a little bit of. But at least with Tina’s performance, they wouldn’t be leaving the game empty handed.

“Well done Tina!” Will cheered. “I’d say you successfully banked five thousand dollars for the pot, bringing the total to one hundred and twenty-four thousand dollars!” They again, applauded Tina. Of course, with how well she had just done, she immediately dropped to the bottom of people’s suspect lists. If Tina was the mole, she could have messed the song up intentionally. But she sang it flawlessly, which made her look much more genuine.

Puck was next, and he ended up singing a song by a group called Big Bang. The song was called, We Like to Party. He had a decent singing voice, but tripped up a lot on the words and in the end, didn’t do a satisfying job of the song and no money was earned.

“Are we sure he’s not the mole?” Santana asked, staring at the back of Puck’s head from her seat. He turned around and glared at her. She merely smirked back at him before turning to look back up at the stage as Brittany took her position in front of the monitor.

Brittany also had a song by Blackpink, entitled Stay. it was a slower song, which made it easier for the blonde girl to follow, and she ended up doing a surprisingly decent job of it, garnering just enough applause to put five thousand dollars more in the pot. The total was now up to one hundred and twenty-nine thousand dollars.

True to his fear, Blaine did not do very well with Bang, Bang, Bang, which was also by Big Bang. The song was on a faster scale than he would have liked. And while he of course had a good singing voice - what musician didn’t - it proved to be a bit too challenging for his wheelhouse. He mainly garnered the ‘good try’ type of applause and returned to his seat, putting his face in his hands.

“I am never going to hear the end of this when I get home. I just made myself look bad,” he muttered. Kurt, who was sitting on his other side, very gently rubbed his back in a comforting manner.

“You still did better than Puck,” Kurt said, keeping his voice low enough that only Blaine could hear him. It was enough to draw a small smile from the curly haired man.

Mercedes didn’t have much luck either. She was more of a rhythm and blues type so 2NE1’s Let’s Go Party wasn’t exactly what she would have chosen for herself. While her notes were all on the ball, her pronunciation wasn’t great. Her best words were the ones in English. She also added no money to the pot.

Finally, it was Kurt’s turn, and like the two men before him, he was given a Big Bang song. This one, was one of their biggest hits and it was up to Kurt to score something for the guys on this song. So he drew a breath and let it out as Fantastic Baby started to play.

If there was one thing Kurt had quickly noticed about K-Pop, it was that the songs were extremely catchy and had that extra element of fun quality to them. He found it nearly impossible not to dance along and really get into it. But letting loose as he sang was doing him favors, and he found himself doing better with the song than he thought he would.

At the end, he was greeted with a strong round of applause and even a standing ovation from a few people. Tina glanced at the players who hadn’t done so well. “Next time, just try letting loose and getting into it like he did. If you don’t think about it so much, it becomes easier,” she suggested.

Kurt returned to his seat, having earned them another five thousand dollars. It was now up to Rachel to close the show.

For the first time in her life, the petite brunette did not look sure of herself as she took the stage. Yes, she loved to sing. And yes, she felt that she could do a wonderful job in another language as well, but no, not if she hadn’t had the chance to rehearse it first. Particularly a language she didn’t even know a single word of.

But true to the actress that she was, she hid her insecurities well and took her position, trying to remember what Tina had just said about letting loose. If she didn’t win them any money, it would be for shame on her.

Like Mercedes before her, Rachel was given a song by 2NE1, called Can’t Nobody. And like Kurt before her, she had a song that was one of the group’s biggest hits. She couldn’t mess this up.

Rachel started to sing. And to her credit, she was doing okay. But partway through, her overconfidence and habit of overthinking kicked in and she started to nosedive. She did her best to save face and managed to recover enough for a strong finish, but the damage was done. While she hadn’t done as bad as some of the other players, she didn’t do enough to save the money for the pot. Five thousand dollars was not earned and Rachel slumped back into her seat.

“Great job guys,” Will said in an encouraging voice. “Fifteen thousand dollars has been added to the pot, bringing the total up to one hundered and thirty-four thousand dollars.” They all clapped, though a bit half-heartedly and Puck muttered something about how the task has been more difficult than he had expected it to be. “Tonight you will face your fourth execution. If you will follow me back to the van, it will take us to the hotel,” the host finished.

They all got up and started to follow him out. But the British host caught Kurt by the arm. He gave the pale man a flirty smile. “What do you say to having a cup of tea with me?” he asked him.

Kurt very politely pulled his arm free of the man’s grasp. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Blaine had gone stark white at this man’s very obvious and abrupt attempt to ask Kurt out.

“Thank you for your kind offer,” Kurt said as politely as he could. He was not really interested in this guy, even if he was cute. Blaine was still cuter. “But I’m not available.” He smirked and walked away, taking Blaine’s hand in his and kissing his cheek. His actions had an immediate calming effect on the other man. The British host stood there gaping and looking dumbfounded, as though he had never expected anyone would have the nerve to turn him down.

That night, after everyone had settled into their new rooms, Will raised his glass of wine to the.table with a smile on his face. He seemed to always be on a positive note, whether the gain for the group had been good or not.

“After two more days of game play, the pot now stands at one hundred and thirty-four thousand dollars.” A smattering of applause went up around the table. “A toast to you all and to the person who will be leaving us tonight. Quinn and Santana, you both have exemptions and therefore, you cannot be executed tonight. Thoughts about today’s game?” he asked them.

Puck raised an eyebrow. “What language was that? I know it was some kind of Asian or something.”

It was Tina who spoke. “It was Korean. I have Korean heritage so I’m familiar with the language,” she admitted.

“That explains why you nailed that song,” Mercedes said. Rachel remained quiet. She’d reverted back to barely eating, feeling like she’d done herself a disservice, let alone the team. She should have been able to knock this one out of the park. Rachel had always felt that singing was singing regardless of the language you were singing. And now she figured that maybe she ought to start learning other languages, just in case.

What if she were to go to say Germany and get asked to perform and she didn’t know German? Of course she was aware that many countries would do the translation of a song into English, but how much more in awe of her would they be if she sung it in their native language?

“Hey,” Blaine said from beside the petite brunette. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Rachel stared at him, wondering how he could be so calm when he was a professional musician and he hadn’t done very well with it either.

Rachel dropped her fork with a clatter. “You’re too positive for your own good!” she snipped. And then she rounded on Will. “And so are you for that matter! I’d say the rest of you who messed up are all the mole!”

Clearly the diva was a bit on edge and Will cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to him and immediately cutting through the tension that had begun to build.

“Well, tonight you will face your fourth quiz,” the host said, getting everyone back on track. “With two exemptions in play, you now have a one in seven chance of being executed, so make your choices wisely. I will see you at the results.”

One by one the players were ushered in to take the quiz. Ten questions about the mole.

Question One: Is the mole male or female?

Question Two: Was the mole behind the wheel of a race car in the Amateur Racer game?

Question Three: What was the number on the mole’s car in the Amateur Racer game?

Question Four: Did the mole opt out for an exemption in either game?

Question Five: In what position did the mole sing in the Karaoke game?

Question Six: Did the mole successfully complete their song in the Karaoke game?

Question Seven: Who is the mole’s new roommate?

Question Eight: From Will’s point of view, where was the mole seated at the execution dinner?

Question Nine: Has the mole had an exemption to this point?

Question Ten: Who is the mole?

When everyone had clicked on their final answer of the quiz, they filed into seats at a park across the street from the hotel, their bags all packed and waiting.

Will once more stood in front of the screen with his hands clasped in front of him.

“Good evening and welcome to your fourth execution,” he began. “The player who scored the lowest on the quiz will be executed. In the event of a tie, the player who answered the questions in the slowest time, will be executed. In a moment, I will tap your picture on the screen to gain access to your results. If the screen turns green, you are safe and can continue playing. If the screen turns red, you are the mole’s fourth victim. You must take your bag and leave the game immediately. Quinn and Santana, you have both earned exemptions, which means you cannot be executed tonight. Let’s begin, shall we? Kurt.”

Kurt hated this moment. Every single execution, aside from the one he was exempt, he felt himself completely tense up, even more so when his name was called. He didn’t feel like he could relax until he knew he was safe. And with each time he passed, it only became more scary because numbers dwindling meant that his chances of getting executed increased.

It seemed that Blaine was just as tense beside him, not wanting Kurt to be the one to go home because he was growing closer to the pale man. But Blaine was very good at hiding his insecurities, except perhaps when he was singing that song at Karaoke. The thought caused the taller man to chuckle.

Will tapped Kurt’s picture on the screen and hit the access results button. Blaine held Kurt’s hand in his, bringing it up to kiss the back of it gently, trying to reassure the other man as they waited. Both men were holding their breath.

The screen flashed green and Kurt was so happy, he kissed Blaine right then and there. The curly haired man certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Mercedes,” Will decided next. The dark skinned diva felt Kurt take her hand with his free one, clearly intending to reassure her. He gave her hand a squeeze.

She drew a breath and nodded for Will to continue. The host tapped her picture on the screen and hit the button to access her results.

After several tense moments, the screen flashed green. Mercedes stayed to play another day. Kurt released both hers and Blaine’s hands to applaud for her, a smile on his face, which she returned.

“Rachel.”

The brunette girl barely looked up as Will said her name. She was still reeling from having performed so poorly. It was not a great hit to her ego. She waved her hand, perhaps not caring whether she would get to play on or not. It was unclear whether she’d even taken the quiz that night seriously.

Will tapped her picture and her results and they all waited yet again. Rachel wasn’t even watching the screen. She was staring at her bag as though she were preparing to get up and go get it.

The screen flashed green. Rachel was still in the game. So maybe she had put effort into the quiz after all. Either that, or she’d just gotten lucky.

“Puck.”

The mohawked man sat with his arms folded over his chest, unaware that all eyes were on him. Clearly, he hadn’t picked up on the fact that his attitude had made him a target for the entire group. Most, if not all of them, wanted him gone.

His picture was tapped, followed by the access button for his results. Other players glanced between Puck and the screen as the moments seemed to stretch on until…

It flashed green.

Most of them managed to hold in their groans that Puck had survived and a few were now even starting to really consider the idea that he could be the mole. He looked smug enough at his survival, as though he had known he would be safe and was rubbing it in.

“Tina.”

The Asian girl was sitting on Blaine’s other side and the curly haired man took ahold of her hand, much in the same way Kurt had done with Mercedes. He tried to throw her a reassuring smile.

“Whatever happens,” Blaine whispered to her. “Just remember you killed it today.” That warranted a smile from Tina as they both looked up at the screen.

Will tapped her picture and the access results button, and stood aside, hands clasped in front of him once more. They all waited.

They waited.

And they waited some more.

The screen flashed red.

“Tina, please grab your bag and come with me.” Everyone watched in stunned silence as Tina pulled her hand from Blaine’s and stood up, walking over to grab her bag. No one had expected her to be the next to go. And no one wanted to see her go. Tina was the kind of person that could get along with anyone.

“That was unexpected,” Santana said, watching Will walk Tina out towards the awaiting car. There were several nods from the rest of the group.

“It just goes to show,” Kurt said, still watching after Tina. “It really is anyone’s game. And even the smallest of clues can cloud your judgment.” Again, there were several nods from the rest of the group.

Will opened the door for Tina who thanked him. “It’s been a pleasure Tina. We’re sorry to see you go.”

“I’m sorry to have to leave,” she replied. “But maybe I’ll hook up with Mike on the outside,” she added with a small smile. “I had a lot of fun and I got to see parts of the world I never expected I would. Tell the others I said good luck!”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Will replied. “Goodbye Tina.” She waved out the window as the car pulled away.  
  
_ That one blind-sided even me! _ thought the mole.


	9. Puzzling Colors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is going up sooner than the last few chapters, but later than I was hoping to finish it! A couple notes, while I said I would not be taking games from the show, the thing with the journals in this chapter is based on something that happened in The Mole US season 5. Secondly, I am really proud of the game I came up with for this chapter. I think it would make an excellent game on the real show if it still existed.
> 
> Comments and kudos make me smile!

“Another Chang chose wrong and Tina was gone, becoming the mole’s fourth victim and leaving eight players still in the game,” Will said, standing outside the karaoke place. “One person was still a group target, but could that person actually be the mole? Who will be the mole’s next victim? And who will ultimately answer that five hundred thousand dollar question, who is the mole?

“Twelve strangers, working together to reach a prize total of five hundred thousand dollars. But among them is a saboteur, a traitor, a double agent working for us to try and hinder the other players from banking the money. That person is the mole. Their task is simple. To win the money, they must answer one question. Who is the mole?

“Is it Kurt Hummel?

“Blaine Anderson?

“Quinn Fabray?

“Rachel Berry?

“Mercedes Jones?

“Noah Puckerman?

“Santana Lopez?

“Or Brittany Pierce?”

Tina’s profile joined the other three with the ‘Executed’ stamp across it as the intro played across the screen.

Kurt came out of the bathroom to the sound of humming. Blaine sat on the other bed, humming to himself as he scribbled notes into his journal, though from the looks of it, it appeared he wasn’t writing down his observations. Kurt smiled and leaned against the wall, watching him quietly for a moment. The curly haired man was quite obviously in his element and Kurt didn’t have the heart to disturb him.

Instead of speaking up, he crossed to Blaine’s bed and sat down beside the other man. Blaine looked up as he felt the bed sink beside him and he couldn’t help but smile. “Hey you,” he said. “Have a good shower?”

Kurt smiled back. “It was refreshing, thank you.” He slid a little closer to the other man and glanced down at the journal. “Are you working at a time like this?” he teased.

Blaine chuckled and glanced down at his work. The page was full of song lyrics, some scratched out and rewritten and it looked messy, just like any song in progress might appear. It seemed that his bad show at karaoke earlier that day hadn’t put a damper on his creativity. He shut the journal however, and set it aside, choosing instead to give his full attention to the man beside him.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” Kurt chuckled with a wave of his hand.

The only response he got was Blaine surging forward to close the gap between them and the next thing he knew, the curly haired man’s lips were on his and Kurt felt like all the tension he hadn’t realized he still had, was starting to lift. This beautiful man was kissing him. Blaine was kissing him and it couldn’t be more of a dream come true for Kurt. When he’d first applied to be on the mole, he hadn’t expected to find a relationship. But here was the possibility of one sitting right in front of him, literally.

Kurt sighed happily and leaned back on the pillows as Blaine crawled forward over him, not daring to break the kiss. Until he did a moment later, moving to nuzzle his nose gently against Kurt’s cheek.

“Do we really have to sleep in separate beds?” Blaine mumbled, and Kurt found it to be one of the most adorable things he’d ever heard. It sounded to him like Blaine didn’t want to be separated from him for even a moment and if Kurt was being honest, he really didn’t want to be either.

“They can’t stop us from doing what feels right, right?” he questioned and Blaine pulled back to look at him.

“Kurt,” he said. “Every time I look at you, I feel like my knees are about to give way. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. And if there is ever only one positive for me coming on this game, it’s that it brought me to you.”

The pale man looked at him in awe, his eyes shining with the threat of happy tears. How was this man so sweet? How was he so perfect? How was he everything Kurt had ever dreamed of having right there in front of him?

“Oh Blaine,” he said softly. “You are the epitome of a dream come true.” Blaine’s only response was to once more, lock their lips together and they stayed that way, kissing late into the night, being bold enough to let their hands roam each other’s bodies, but not going any further than that. The cameras were still watching them after all.

The next morning at the breakfast table, Will smiled around at them all. “Well, one third of our group is now gone,” the host started. “A toast to our four fallen players,” he added, raising his glass of orange juice. The players mimicked him and raised their own glasses. He set his glass back down and smiled. “Now, I’m going to split you up into four teams of two. To make this easier, your partner will be your roommate. Puck, Rachel, since the two you both have your own rooms, you will be a team as well.”

Rachel let out a not so subtle groan. Tina had been her roommate and now that she was gone, that left her stuck with Puck, who was the odd man out because he didn’t have a roommate in the first place. Kurt and Blaine had opted to share a room, which was fine with Puck. He wasn’t interested in sharing with anyone anyway.

“You better not mess this up for us Puck,” Rachel bit and the man with the mohawk raised an eyebrow at her.

“Me? Why would it necessarily be my fault?” he quipped back. Rachel said nothing, just continued to poke at her breakfast. Puck rolled his eyes and bit into his toast.

Will cleared his throat. “Now, before we move on,” he said, picking up a box that had been on the floor by his feet. “You were all asked to bring your journals with you this morning. I’d like you all to drop them in this box please,” he said.

The players all looked at each other and passed their journals forward, wondering what this could possibly be about.

“You aren’t expecting us to swap them are you?” Santana asked, looking concerned. Some of the stuff she’d written in her own journal was not something she wanted anyone else to see. The very thought had Kurt paling. He didn’t want anyone seeing the little hearts he had drawn in his own journal.

“No,” Will said. “There will be no journal swaps this season.” Though he sounded genuine, the players were not entirely inclined to believe him. He stood with the box. “I’ll be right back.”   


They were all quiet for a moment as he left the room. No one had any idea what he could possibly be doing. And no one really was very keen on the idea of anyone reading their journals, including the host.

“I bet the mole’s journal is blank,” Rachel said, finally breaking the silence.

“What gives you that idea?” Quinn asked her, setting her water glass back down on the table. The rest of them all turned to look at Rachel.

The petite diva shrugged. “The mole already knows everything, so he or she wouldn’t need to take notes.”

“Maybe so,” Mercedes piped up. “But if they were to leave it blank, that kind of would make it obvious they were the mole to anyone other than themselves, who might see it.”

Kurt spoke up next. “Mercedes is right. There’s always a chance in this game that someone else will see your journal. On top of that, the mole is usually given a heads up for these things. They’re not going to leave their journal blank.”

Rachel rolled her eyes at Kurt. “Gee, you’re such an expert at this game. Maybe you are the mole after all.”

“So what if I am?” Kurt questioned, not at all phased by her accusation. Nothing more was said then as Will came back into the room. In one arm, he had the box with the journals and in the other he was carrying a glass bowl full of slips of paper.

They all watched the host as he came and took his seat at the table. He passed the box around, indicating for everyone to go ahead and take back their journals.

“So what was the point of this?” Santana asked.

Will grinned and set the bowl of slips of paper in the center of the table. “Everyone likes a little confidence pick me up here and there. I took the liberty of finding a compliment for every player in your journals. There is one for each of you in there.”

“Let me guess,” Rachel said. “If we can guess who wrote the compliment, we win money for the pot.”

Will shook his head. “Actually, this is just a morale booster for the lot of you. I won’t lie, there were some people it was hard to find a compliment for.” All eyes landed on Puck. “Oh, before we begin, there is one more thing. Last night, you may remember producers pulling you aside and asking for your opinion on the player you wanted the most to be executed.” Again, the players all looked at each other.

“I knew there was a rat in that,” Quinn said, and they all laughed at her.

“Well, perhaps you should have thought about it a little more, because the mole left a present for the person who got the most votes.” A few of them had expressions that suggested they knew what was coming. “If you will all open your journals and turn to the first blank page please.”

Eight journals flipped open to blank pages. And one person at the table found a green thumbprint stuck to that page.

Will nodded his head. “Congratulations Puck. Because the majority of the players would like to see you executed, the mole has granted you an exemption from the week’s quiz, so you cannot be executed this week.”

_ And you better be grateful for it. Because if I had my way, I wouldn’t have given it to you, _ the mole thought.

Puck sniggered. Never before had there been a better time to be so disliked. He got rewarded for it. Now he could spend the next two days relaxing through the games. The rest of the players groaned. They should have known this was coming when they were prompted that question.

The host seemed unphased by everyone’s disappointment that Puck was going to be around beyond the next quiz. He was clearly on everyone’s radar to get out of the game. But at the same time, the longer he managed to survive, the more it started to look like he was the mole. Of course, Puck was the kind of person who would have been thrilled to give himself an exemption, even if it turned out he wouldn’t have needed it in the first place.

“Now, back to the compliments,” Will said, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. They all looked at him and then at the bowl he had set on the table. Even now, a few were wondering what nice thing anyone could have said about the man who had just sat in a smug manner a moment before.

Will offered the bowl to the first person on his right, who happened to be Mercedes. She stuck her hand in and pulled out a paper. She unfolded it and raised an eyebrow. “Do I have to read this?” she asked, a tone in her voice that suggested she didn’t think the person deserved to know. It was an indication that maybe she had gotten one for Puck on the first try.

The host nodded his head. “Please,” he said, gesturing to the paper in her hands.

Mercedes sighed. “Puck has a nice ass,” she read off the paper and the entire table burst into laughter. Of all possible compliments Will could have chosen, he picked something like that. It was starting to look like he didn’t find much for Puck at all. However, laughter was short-lived as the man in question threw them all a glare.

“Of course I have a nice ass. I have a nice everything.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Kurt said. “Considering the fact that no one here seems to be drawn to your assets at all.” Again, the table burst into laughter, and Blaine even did a spit take at Kurt’s words. Of course the pale man would be that bold.

Will passed the bowl on with a smile to Santana, who was seated next to Mercedes. When the Latina had finished laughing and regained her self control, she reached a hand in and pulled out a paper. She read it to herself for a moment before her eyes flicked between two people in particular and she smirked.

“Blaine’s hair looks so soft like silk. I just want to run my fingers through it,” she read off, tone nonchalant. There was no question who’d written that one and now the players were wondering if these were all going to be physical compliments rather than things about the person’s character. Who knew Will had it him to select these kind of things?

To his credit, Kurt managed to stave off the blush, even though he knew his own words were obvious to everyone else. Why did Will have to choose something he’d written about Blaine? He wanted to say, that it was too private to being telling the curly haired man. But said curly haired man grabbed a hold of his hand and squeezed it gently.

Next it was Puck’s turn to read out a paper, and he was careless with grabbing one. Clearly, he just wanted to get the whole ordeal over with.

“Mercedes is one of the easiest people to get along with I’ve ever met,” he read, in a bored tone of voice. He was disappointed that he hadn’t gotten anything juicy like Mercedes and Santana. So maybe they weren’t all physical compliments. Mercedes smiled gently.

“Thank you to whomever wrote that,” she said. Puck merely rolled his eyes and the bowl was passed on to Quinn.

The blonde reached a hand into the array of remaining papers and pulled one out.

“Kurt is an impeccable talent. I don’t understand why he’s not on Broadway, where he should be. Nothing like true healthy competition.” The tone used in writing that compliment made it fairly easy to figure out who had written it. And it appeared that person didn’t care if people knew that she had.

“I stand by that statement,” Rachel said, nodding her head at Kurt. “You said you didn’t get into NYADA and after your performance yesterday, they clearly misjudged you.”

Kurt looked at her for a moment. “You just wrote this?” he was astounded to say the least, and the girl nodded.

“I may be fierce and driven, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a kind word for anyone,” she replied.

“Thank you,” Kurt said, a bit stunned.

It was Rachel’s turn next and she pulled a piece of paper out of the bowl, unfolding it and reading it to herself first. “Sanny is the nicest person I ever met! And she has pretty eyes, all three of them!” She paused. “There are a lot of spelling errors and it’s written in crayon.” They didn’t need to know that to guess who had written it.

Santana reached across the table and patted Brittany’s hand and the blonde just smiled at her.

Kurt was the next to choose a paper from the bowl. “I admire the way Quinn always seems so calm and put together and collected. I wish I could handle things as smoothly as she does,” he read off.

Quinn smiled gently around the table. She wasn’t sure she really was that calm and put together, but if this person thought she was good at showing it, than she wasn’t about to correct them. It was a nice sentiment and it was nice to know that people couldn’t see she was actually falling apart on the inside. Mostly because she missed her daughter. But now was not the time to let her worries distract her from playing the game.

Kurt passed the bowl on to Blaine, who released his hand and smiled at him. He pulled a piece of paper from what was left and unfolded it. “I like how Brittany always sees the bright side of everything. Her positivity can be contagious,” he read off, looking at the blonde girl beside him with a smile.

Brittany clapped her hands giddily. “Oh yay! I inspire people!” she chirped. The bowl was passed to her and she pulled a slip out, furrowing her brow for a moment, before handing it to Blaine, who agreed to read it off for her when she struggled with the words.

“Rachel can be seen as a little dynamo. Some people might not like to admit it, but she’s a powerhouse, even when she’s not at her best,” he read off.

The petite diva was surprised by the statement and she wondered who could have possibly written it. She wanted to personally thank them for their words. It was definitely what she needed for encouragement.

When the bowl was passed back to Will, the players noted that there was still one more paper in there. It was sitting neatly folded at the bottom.

“What’s that?” Kurt asked, pointing to the paper on the bottom of the glass bowl. Will looked down at it, intrigued.

The host pulled the paper out and unfolded it. “It seems our mole was dabbling in things other than your journals today,” he said after grazing the paper with his eyes.

“What does it say?” Mercedes asked.

Will cleared his throat. “I’m about to colorize you all. Are you puzzled yet? Signed The Mole.”

The players all exchanged glances. “What does that mean?” Blaine asked, arching an eyebrow in confusion.

Will stood from the table. “It’s a reference to your next challenge. If you will all follow me.

They placed their napkins on the table and all stood to follow him out of the room. He led them to a wing of the hotel that ended in a sort of cul de sac, with doors to rooms surrounding them. In the center of the cul de sac was a table on which sat a single small black bag.

“In this bag,” Will said, moving to stand behind the table. “Are four different colored chips. Red, black, yellow, and blue,” he explained. “In a moment, one person from each team will select a chip from the bag. Whatever color you get, is the color of the room you’ll be entering. Inside each room you will find a different type of puzzle to be solved. You will have half an hour to solve it. But be forewarned, only two of them will earn you money. For two of these puzzles, if you manage to successfully solve them in the allotted time, you will earn ten thousand dollars each for the pot, for a total of forty thousand dollars. One of the puzzles will lose you ten thousand dollars, should you solve it on time. And one puzzle, will earn you an exemption. However, only one player from that team may have it. You will have to decide which together, or else it goes to no one. Any questions?”

Nobody seemed to have any. The task was self explanatory. Of course, there was no way of knowing what kind of puzzles they would each be facing.

“Right then,” Will went on with a smile. Brittany, you can choose first.” The blonde girl clapped as he held the bag out to her. She reached a hand in and pulled out a chip.

“Yellow!” Brittany squealed happily. Santana smiled at the girl’s innocent giddiness.

Will gestured to the door to his left. “Brittany, Santana, please go stand at the door to your room.” The two women moved to stand over there. “Blaine, you’re next,” Will went on, holding the bag out for the curly haired man.

Blaine stuck his hand in the bag and grasped all three remaining chips at once. He chuckled to himself and let go of two of them, emerging with the blue chip in his hand. He glanced at Kurt. “Looks like we’re the blue team,” he said with a smile. Kurt smiled back. Will gestured to the door behind them and they went to stand in front of it.

“Puck, your turn,” the host said.

Puck didn’t take his sweet time. He simply reached his hand in and pulled it out again. “Red, the color of anger and sex,” he smirked. Rachel fought the urge to face palm.

“Please go stand at the door behind me,” Will said, once more unphased by the comment. “And Quinn and Mercedes get the black room,” he added, handing them the final chip and gesturing to the door to his right.

When all players were standing in front of their respective rooms, Will cleared his throat and set the empty bag on the table.

“When I tell you, you will enter your rooms and stand in the middle. Each team will be made aware of their puzzle right away. But you will not be allowed to start until after you hear me speak to you over the intercom.” He paused for a moment. “You may now enter your rooms,” he said. Each team opened their doors and stepped into their rooms.

Santana and Brittany stepped into a bright yellow room that looked to be about the size of a classroom. On the wall beside them was a white board. And taped to the white board, was a logic puzzle of sorts.

“Santana and Brittany,” Will’s voice came over the intercom. “You have the yellow room. Taped to the white board in the room is a logic problem you will need to solve. The white board is there to be used for any way you wish to calculate things. When I say go, you may begin working it out. But, until then, you cannot write anything down. Hang tight and I will be back with you shortly.”

Kurt and Blaine found themselves in a smaller room painted with blue walls. In front of them sat a blue table. On the table, were the scattered pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

“Blaine, Kurt?” They looked up at the sound of Will’s voice. “In front of you are the pieces for a one hundred piece jigsaw puzzle. Your task is simple. Put all the pieces together without the use of a photo of the finished product. Wait for my signal and then you can begin.”

Kurt and Blaine glanced at each other and then at the table. Kurt approached it. “I feel like we lucked out and got the easiest task.” He was quiet for a moment.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing,” Blaine stated, putting voice to the worry that had just entered Kurt’s head.

The pale man sighed. “There’s no way of knowing for sure. We have to try. And really try. Otherwise, fingers will be pointed at us, especially if we do have a money room.”

Blaine nodded his head. “Okay,” he agreed.

In the red room, which was about the same size as the blue one, Puck and Rachel found themselves staring at one of those horseshoe type puzzles. The kind where the two identical metal pieces are linked together and you have to figure out how to pull them apart.

“Well, this isn’t going to get us hotheaded,” Rachel deadpanned, staring at the puzzle. This was probably the worst type of puzzle for two people who got frustrated easily, to have to figure out.

“Puck and Rachel,” came Will’s voice overhead. “You have a horseshoe linking puzzle. On my signal, you will have half an hour to try and figure out how to pull them apart. Smashing or otherwise attempting to break them will not be an option.”

Puck snapped his fingers. He didn’t have any qualms about trying something like that if he had to. He wondered if there was a fire extinguisher in the red room. Maybe he could smash it that way. How was Will going to know?

The black room was completely daunting and creepy and also the largest of the four rooms. Quinn and Mercedes found themselves merely staring at a gap in the wall across from them. Their little entry room was quite small and quaint, but with the doorway to the unknown, they figured there had to be more to it.

“Quinn and Mercedes,” Will said to them. “You are standing at the entrance of a walkthrough maze. You’ll have thirty minutes to find your way to the end. Should you be successful, you will find a green button. Press it, and it will light your path back to the start. Your walk back will not count in the thirty minute time frame because your task is only to solve it.”

“I don’t mind so much the maze thing,” Mercedes said, looking towards the ceiling. “But I’m not feeling the black walls. Makes it kind of creepy.” She shuddered.

“At least we’re together,” Quinn commented and the dark skinned diva had to admit she had a point. She would much rather not be doing this alone.

There was a beat of silence before Will’s voice flooded all four rooms. “Can you hear me?” he asked. There was a chorus of yeses from the players. “Alright, you all have half an hour. Your time begins now.”

The moment the signal to go was given, Brittany had skipped up to the white board and almost immediately started scribbling down estimations. Santana stood behind her looking completely stunned and a slight bit dumbfounded.

“Brit-Brit?” she asked.

“Yes Sanny?” Brittany replied without looking up from her work.

“What are you doing?”

The blonde glanced over her shoulder at her. “Solving the puzzle. I’m not a mathematics student for nothing you know.” She smiled gently at the Latina who inclined her head to one side.

Santana was smart, but even staring at the puzzle while they waited for go, she hadn’t thought of a dent to the problem yet. Brittany on the other hand, this seemed to be the one thing she was meant for. She had taken the marker to the white board without hesitation. As though she’d noted right away, the kind of technical equations that would help them solve the puzzle.

“They say they haven’t seen a brain like mine since Einstein!” Brittany added after a beat, still marking down numbers and glancing back and forth from her work to the puzzle. “I didn’t know a dog had a great math mind, or that you could be an actor and a mathematician.”

It took Santana a moment to figure out where this was coming from. “Are you referring to Back to the Future?” she asked the girl.

“Yes, wasn’t Einstein the crazy haired guy’s dog?” Brittany asked in response, tapping her chin with the back end of the marker.

“Yes,” Santana replied. “Yes he was.” She came to stand beside the blonde and placed a hand on her arm. Brittany only smiled at her and continued to work on the problem.

In the blue room, Kurt was trying to separate all the edge pieces from the pile on the table. “It’s always best to start with the edges first,” he said, sliding a corner piece into the new pile he was starting.

Blaine stood beside him at the table. “Thank you,” he replied in a tone that suggested Kurt had just ended a frustrating argument for him. The pale man looked up, an eyebrow arched and Blaine sighed. “My brother likes to argue that you should start from the center and work your way out. But his ideals for how to do things are nowhere close to right.”

The taller man chuckled, keeping his eyes on the puzzle in front of him. “Well, if you want to get this done faster, you can work on the inside pieces and I’ll work on the border and then we can bring them together.”

The curly haired man smiled at him. “You are the smartest and cutest guy I have ever met.” Kurt blushed and playfully smacked his arm, causing Blaine to chuckle. But he did as Kurt said and started to work on the inside pieces. Perhaps his brother’s argument made more sense when more than one person was working on the project.

They elapsed into a comfortable silence as they worked on their respective parts of the puzzle, every so often sneaking glances at each other.

“This is useless,” Puck spit out, tossing the linking puzzle back down on the table after only a few moments of working on it. Rachel frowned and picked it back up. She figured that she might have a little more patience than he did.

“Don’t you want to win any money?” she questioned, giving Puck a suspicious look. For the past several days, the mohawked man had increasingly raised suspicion of himself. He wasn’t short of actions that could be described as mole-like behavior. The issue was, if he wasn’t the mole, the rest of the players had no way of knowing if he was intentionally acting that way to throw them all off, or if he was oblivious to the suspicion his actions had caused.

Rachel knew one thing. If she were the mole, she wouldn’t be knowingly trying to play obvious. Even if that tactic could work in one’s favor. Make yourself blatantly obvious so people will think you’re not the mole. On the other hand, Puck’s tactic - whether intentional or not - was great gameplay if you weren’t the mole. Make everyone think you are and knock them out one by one by answering the quiz in your favor.

Puck rolled his eyes. “Don’t we all want to win money?” he replied, pulling a sigh from the brunette diva.

“The mole doesn’t,” Rachel said, setting the linking puzzle back down and crossing her arms over her chest.

But Puck had a quick response for that too. “Oh but the mole does,” he said. “They just want to win money for themselves.” He had a point. Anything they didn’t manage to bank in the pot, went to the mole’s own personal trust fund. “The way we’ve been doing so far, guaranteed by the end of the game, the mole will have more money than the winner.”

A pregnant pause hung in the room following his words. Neither of them were focusing on their puzzle anymore.

“Wanna make out?” Puck said after several moments and Rachel stared at the professional football player.

“Are you nuts! There are cameras in here! I’m pretty sure it’s a violation of the game rules!”

The mohawked man shrugged. “Do I look like I care about game rules?”

Rachel was quiet. She found it best not to dignify that with an actual response, probably one of the smartest moves she had ever made. She picked up the puzzle again, if only to give herself something to keep her brain occupied. Regardless of whether or not she wanted to admit it, his offer sounded really good right about then.

In the black room, Mercedes and Quinn stood at the entrance to their maze, developing a strategy.

“So there are two of us,” Quinn said. “I say we split up at the first fork. That way, we’re covering more of the path at once and if one of us meets a dead end, we can backtrack and join the other. If we took every turn together, it would take too much of our time. And we don’t know just how big this maze is.”

Mercedes nodded her head slightly, contemplating the strategy. “What if we come to another fork on our own?” she asked.

Quinn had an answer. “Then you use the maze trick.”

“The maze trick?”   


The blonde woman nodded. “Yes, always take the left,” she replied.

“Oh, that maze trick,” Mercedes said with a laugh and shook her head. “I still don’t like the fact that the walls are black,” she added, a shudder rolling through her.

Quinn looked around the room as they prepared to enter their maze. “Well, I think I’m certain of one thing,” she commented and Mercedes gave her a questioning look. “I doubt this room would lose us money if we succeed. Black is daunting and creepy and sometimes pulls out the negativity. It’s too obvious a choice for the negative room. My guess is that we either will win money, or one of us could possibly earn an exemption.”

The other girl nodded her head. She hadn’t thought of that. She could only hope that Quinn was right. That this room would not actually be the money losing room. At the moment though, it didn’t matter much because she really just wanted to get out of it. Why did they have to be stuck with the black room? It was apparently a fate of being last to pick. If Mercedes had her choice, she would have chosen the yellow room. Or maybe the red one.

“Are we ready to do this?” she finally asked. Quinn nodded.

“Let’s kick some maze butt,” the blonde said and Mercedes laughed. After another beat, the two of them stepped into the maze

By the time Will called over the intercom that there were fifteen minutes left, Brittany was long done solving the puzzle and she and Santana were seated on a couple of classroom desks talking. In the blue room, Kurt and Blaine were more than halfway done with the puzzle. Mercedes and Quinn were laughing their way through their maze in the black room. And Puck and Rachel had made no progress. In fact, the two of them had barely made an attempt. Puck had declared more than once that it was stupid and wanted to know why they hadn’t gotten one of the other types of puzzles. Something that was less frustrating than the stupid horseshoes.

With five minutes left to go, Kurt and Blaine had finished their puzzle and celebrated with a little light making out. Brittany had dozed off in the yellow room and Santana didn’t have the heart to wake her. Mercedes and Quinn had just spotted their green light ending and squealed happily in triumph. And Puck and Rachel had finally started to make a serious attempt at getting the thing apart. They really did want the money after all. It just wasn’t the best task for them.

“Time is up!” came Will’s voice over the intercom. Rachel let out a groan and dropped her face into her hands. They hadn’t been able to figure out how to pull the two apart.

“Look on the bright side,” Puck said as the two of them stood to leave the room. “If this was the money lost room, we haven’t lost anything because we didn’t successfully solve the puzzle.”

The looks on the other players’ faces told Rachel they were the only team who hadn’t been successful. “That’s not such a bright side when we’re the only ones who failed,” she stated, prompting Puck to look around him.

“Bogus,” the man with the mohawk said.

All pairs came to a stop in front of Will. He nodded to each of them. “Let’s start with Santana and Brittany,” he said. “Brittany, you managed to correctly solve that logic puzzle in under ten minutes.” The rest of the players looked at the blonde girl in surprise as she clapped giddily. Will handed their team a yellow card. “Since you successfully completed your puzzle, you may open your card and reveal what result was attached to the yellow room.”

Santana smirked and opened the card. “Congratulations yellow team, one of you has earned an exemption.” The Latina was even happier about that. One of the things they’d been talking about before Brittany had dozed off, was what they would do with the exemption.

“As the card and I mentioned earlier, only one of you may have the exemption and it has to be a unanimous decision. So, who’s it going to be? Or will neither of you be safe tomorrow night?”

“Brit and I agreed that she would get the exemption, based on the fairness that she hasn’t had one yet.”

Will nodded. “Fair enough. Congratulations Brittany. You have earned an exemption and therefore, cannot be eliminated tomorrow night.” Once again, the blonde girl clapped giddily. Will turned his attention on Mercedes and Quinn. “Black team, you just managed to find the way through that maze and hit the green button in time.” He held out the black card. “Time to see what your efforts have earned you.”

Quinn took the card and opened it. She and Mercedes read it aloud together. “Congratulations black team, you have each earned ten thousand dollars for the pot for a total of twenty thousand dollars won.” They grinned at each other.

“Well done Quinn and Mercedes,” Will said. “Twenty thousand dollars is added to the pot, bringing the grand total up to one hundred and fifty-four thousand dollars.” He turned to Kurt and Blaine next. “Kurt and Blaine, you successfully completed your one hundred piece puzzle. Here is your card.”

Kurt took the blue card, knowing that they had a fifty-fifty chance of either winning the money, or losing half of what Quinn and Mercedes had just won. He glanced at Blaine nervously.

“Go on,” the curly haired man prompted. “Open it.”

Drawing a deep breath, the pale man flipped open the card. “Sorry blue team,” he read. “In this case, solving the puzzle was not the right answer. Ten thousand dollars will be taken from the pot.” He frowned, as did Blaine. Kurt muttered something under his breath the rest of them couldn’t hear.

“I’m sorry guys, but your success has become the team’s downfall. Ten thousand dollars will be taken from the pot, dropping it to one hundred and forty-four thousand dollars.” A few people gave the two of them reassuring pats on the back. If nothing else, they knew they could solve a puzzle in half an hour.

Puck and Rachel glanced at each other. Being the last team left, they now knew what solving their puzzle would have been worth. Twenty thousand dollars. Everyone in the room was about to hate them. And it would only make Puck look worse.

“Rachel, Puck,” Will started, looking at them. “I’m sorry, but the two of you did not manage to solve your puzzle in time. By process of elimination, it would have won the group twenty thousand dollars. Instead, you earn nothing, bringing the grand total added to the pot, ten thousand dollars.” Groans went up from around the group. They had to start doing better at these games.

“Well done mole,” Santana quipped, staring at Puck. “I don’t suppose we can take away his exemption.” There was no doubt that she definitely felt he didn’t deserve it.

Rachel was surprised to see that no one seemed to be blaming her for it either and at the same time, everyone was sympathetic when it turned out that Kurt and Blaine had lost them money rather than won anything. It was weird. But she wasn’t going to complain if no one was going to claim this as her fault too, despite the fact that she was one half of the failing team.

“That’s a wrap for today guys. Enjoy yourselves the rest of the day.. Tomorrow is another day, with another game to play,” Will said. With a nod of his head, he excused himself and left the group.


	10. The Fifth Execution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I finally finished chapter 10! It only took my like a bazillion years! I'm so sorry for the wait guys. I've just been hit with the I don't feel like writing mood. The non-motivation droid, lol. But I started writing chapter 10 for real yesterday and finished it by when I hoped to! This evening!
> 
> Also, you should check out my new story He Was A Shooting Star! And the AmazinGlee Race 1 and 2 has now started to go up, written with the talented and wonderful grlnxtdr29!
> 
> Okay, so I did have to do a little research for this chapter, owing to the fact that I've read the book and am familiar with the characters, but I have yet to actually get to see Wicked. Le gasp! I know right?!
> 
> You can also catch me on tumblr now at klainedreams34!
> 
> Anyway, as always, comments and kudos make me smile!
> 
> P.S. Who do you think will be the next player executed?

Kurt was thrilled when Blaine asked him if he wanted to go to dinner that night. He was all too happy to say yes. The other man was becoming more and more his type everyday and while they’d already had their first kiss, this felt like it was the start of something beautiful.

The room phone rang as the two of them were preparing for their dinner date. Blaine was in the bathroom doing his hair so Kurt laid the peacoat he was planning to wear down on his bed and moved to pick it up.

“Hello?” he asked curiously.

“Mr. Hummel?” said a voice on the other end of the line. He recognized it as the lady from reception.

“Yes?” he asked, confusion lacing his voice. Why would reception be calling him? Was there an issue back home? No, that couldn’t be it. He had a feeling if that were the case, producers would have come to get him rather than have the hotel call him.

There was a light chuckle on the other end of the line. Kurt wasn’t sure what she found so funny. “There’s a delivery down here at the front desk for you.” There was no mistaking the cheekiness in her voice.

“Um, okay,” the pale man replied. “I’ll be down in a second.” He hung the phone back up as Blaine came out of the bathroom, looking even more dapper than ever before, if that was even possible. Kurt felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of the other man. He looked positively stunning and so sexy, he wanted to just forget dinner and have his wicked way with him right then and there in the room.

“Who was that?” Blaine asked, approaching Kurt and wrapping his arms around him from behind.

“The front desk,” the taller man replied. He relaxed into Blaine’s arms.

“What did they want?” the curly haired man asked, looking slightly confused. Kurt thought it was adorable.

“They said there was a delivery for me.”

Blaine pulled back slightly, a quizzical look on his face. He wondered who could have possibly sent Kurt anything. Who would know that he was there at that hotel? There was a full disclosure policy and the players were not allowed to give their friends and family any hints as to where they were going. All part of making sure that everything on air was a surprise. He was immediately skeptical about this whole thing.

“I’m going with you,” he said shortly, pecking Kurt on the cheek and releasing him.

Kurt opened and closed his mouth a moment, before nodding his head. He wasn’t sure why Blaine felt he needed to come with him to get this delivery, but he wasn’t going to complain.

The two of them made their way to the elevator, where Blaine had no qualms about kissing along Kurt’s pale neck as they rode down to the lobby. Kurt bit down on his lip to keep from moaning.

“Blaine,” he said. But the other man just silenced him with a kiss to his lips that made every nerve in his body fire off rapidly. Kurt had to grip the bar behind him to keep his knees from giving out. He was quite sure that kissing Blaine was going to turn him to mush.

The curly haired man pulled away just as the elevator dinged, signaling they had arrived at the lobby. He smoothed down his cardigan and straightened his bowtie as they stepped off the elevator.

Kurt hadn’t realized he was a bit tense until Blaine slipped his hand into his and he felt himself relax. The two men approached the desk.

“Hi,” Kurt said with uncertainty. “I got a call that there was a delivery for me?” he questioned.

Beside him, Blaine squeezed his hand.

“Oh yes!” the lady said with a smile. She turned and picked up a large vase, brimming with so many flowers, Kurt was surprised they all fit in there. “Someone must find you pretty special,” she said, that cheekiness back in her voice.

For a moment, Kurt wondered if Blaine had sent them, but a look at the other man’s face was enough to tell him, he hadn’t. Blaine did not look happy about the flowers.

“Do you know who sent them?” Kurt asked the lady.

She shook her head. “No. They were delivered by the flourist. There’s a card at the top.”

“Thank you,” Kurt commented. He and Blaine stepped away from the front desk, choosing to move to a more private area of the lobby. Blaine still looked unhappy.

The pale man carefully removed the card from the bouquet and opened it.

_Roses are red_   
_Violets are blue_   
_You should pick me_   
_Because I’m fascinated by you_

_Your Secret Admirer_

If Kurt hadn’t been convinced already that the flowers weren’t from Blaine, he was now. Blaine didn’t need to hide under the guise of a secret admirer tag. The poem was cheesy and didn’t even impress the pale man. He only frowned when he finished reading it. But who could have sent it? Who knew where to find him?

“What does it say?” Blaine asked. Kurt merely handed him the card and Blaine wrinkled his nose after reading it. “They’re not a very good poet, are they?” he said.

Kurt shrugged. “Wouldn’t matter if they were, because I’m not interested,” he said, not missing a beat. He set the vase on the cushioned bench beside him and looked up. That was when he caught a glimpse of a figure scurrying away from the front doors of the hotel. He narrowed his eyes. “The hotel can do what they want with these flowers,” he said after a moment. “I don’t want them.” He stood and held his hand out to Blaine. “Come on, let’s go to dinner.”

The words were enough to put a smile on Blaine’s face and he took Kurt’s hand, allowing the other to pull him up. The two of them smiled at each other and made their way out of the hotel, leaving the flowers behind.

It seemed though that whomever had sent Kurt the flowers, wasn’t going to give up that easily. When he arrived at breakfast the following morning, he found a small black box sitting at his spot on the table.

Blaine frowned when he noticed the box. Kurt sheepishly ran a hand over his face. He opened the box and found the most hideous looking ring he’d ever seen in his life. There was a small note folded into the top of the box.

_We can take the world together_   
_Travel across the land_   
_And I will kiss you forever_   
_Once I take your hand_

_Your Secret Admirer_

Even if this was only the second gift, Blaine had had enough. He grabbed the small message and ripped it up before tossing the hideous ring in a nearby plant. Then he took his seat beside Kurt in a huff and the pale man eyed him for a moment. He needed to figure out a way to calm Blaine down. Kurt had no interest in this cheesy guy anyway.

In fact, the taller man thought he might have an idea who it was.

“Something wrong Kurt?” Will asked, looking at him. Everyone at the table had paused in their breakfast with Blaine’s frustration.

Kurt shook his head and looked at the host. “I just hope we’ll be leaving here soon. I’m starting to feel attacked,” he admitted.

Blaine grabbed his hand from under the table. Kurt smiled at him.

Will furrowed his brow. “Attacked?” he asked.

The pale man sighed. “Last night, someone delivered flowers to me at the front desk. There was a card with a cheesy poem signed by a secret admirer. Now, that,” he said nodding his head to the plant. “I’m not sure if this person just grabbed the cheapest ring they could get their hands on or if they honestly thought I would like that. It was hideous.”

The host frowned. He excused himself and got up from the table, saying something about talking to producers. The last thing they wanted was outside parties trying to distract the players. This was just a silly crush or something, but if it was interfering with the player’s wellbeing, it was not okay. And clearly, Kurt wasn’t the only one bothered by it.

Everyone at the table was completely quiet until Will had returned. “Hopefully,” he started, “That will put an end to it. Production has been asked to intercept anymore packages,” he finished, nodding to Kurt.

“Thank you,” Kurt said, and Blaine squeezed his hand.

“Now,” Will went on. “On to the game of the day.” He smiled around at all of them and placed a playbill in the center of the table.

Rachel and Kurt both squealed. “Oh my God! Wicked!” they both shouted at the same time and then burst into laughter.

Santana reached over and picked up the playbill. “No offense, but what does a musical about witches have to do with playing the game?” she asked.

Will grinned. “We’ve set up a very special session with the West End cast. Today’s game will involve using your knowledge skills.” He placed his napkin back on the table and looked around at the players. “If you will all follow me, we have a theater to be getting to.”

The players all stood to follow him, with Rachel chattering away about how one day she wanted to play Elphaba on the West End. “And maybe in Melbourne too,” she added to anyone who would listen. At the time, only Kurt and Blaine were giving her their attention.

As the group climbed into the van to head to the theater, Kurt caught a glimpse of someone darting around the corner of the hotel and narrowed his eyes. He noted a doorman by the door and stopped to talk to him. “I thought you might want to keep an eye on the grounds. There seems to be someone suspicious trying to spy for lack of a better description,” he said, nodding his head to where he’d seen the person dart back around.

The doorman followed his gaze and nodded his head. Kurt knew he had no reason to believe him, but he was thankful the man seemed to consider his words anyway.

It wasn’t until the van was on its way that Kurt noticed it.

He and Blaine were seated together in the back row and they were laughing about something until Kurt caught a glimpse in the rearview mirror up ahead. There was a black car following the van.

“Will?” he said and the host turned around from his seat next to the driver. “I think we’re being followed.”

He watched the man turn to look first in the rearview and then out the back window. The driver did the same, except he didn’t look out the back window.

Keeping one eye on the rearview mirror, the driver of the van turned a random corner. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he was doing. He was testing the black car behind them. And to everyone’s horror, the car followed them completely around the block, even matching the random lane changes the driver made.

“Okay,” Will said. “No one panic. Let’s just get to the theater and then we’ll figure out what to do.”

“I bet it’s him,” Kurt said quietly.

“Who?” Mercedes asked.

“The secret admirer.”

Blaine was cracking his knuckles, an action that was very out of character for him. “I didn’t start the Dalton fight club for no reason,” he muttered, taking a few small practice air punches. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

“You started a fight club?” he asked.

“Obviously I’m not supposed to talk about it,” Blaine replied, a sort of half smirk, half grin on his face.

Kurt managed a small smile.

The black car followed them all the way to the theater. Will shuffled them out, making sure to stand in the way so whomever was in the car couldn’t see the players. They were quickly herded into the theater and Will took a production assistant aside to have a small talk with them. They nodded their head and pulled out a phone before the host headed into the theater.

Will came to stand in front of where the players were sitting in the lobby. He clapped his hands together, anxious to move forward like everything was fine.

“I have production handling the situation, don’t worry. In the meantime, the show must go on.”

The players laughed at his words.

“So, you said this involves using our knowledge skills,” Rachel said. “But I can’t for the life of me figure out why I would need it because I know everything about this show by heart.”

Will chuckled. “You will note that there are some changes between Broadway and West End productions. For the most part, they are fairly the same. But some can have some big differences,” he said.

“Like Charlie and The Chocolate Factory?” Kurt stated and the tone he used sounded almost as though he were mad at the show.

Santana raised an eyebrow at him. “Why do you hate Willy Wonka so much porcelain?” she asked.

It was Rachel who answered. “He doesn’t hate Willy Wonka. He hates what they did to the show when they produced it for Broadway and I don’t blame him.”

The Latina gave her a look. Blaine spoke up then.

“Broadway decided it would be more appealing to American audiences for all the child roles with the exception of Charlie himself to be played by adults,” he said. Santana scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest, releasing Brittany’s hand in the process.

“Where did they get a stupid idea like that? Neither of the films starred adults as the kids.”

“Exactly!” Rachel exclaimed.

“Don’t forget they changed the nationality of the Salts too,” Kurt pitched in.

There was some scattered muttering around the group and Will clapped his hands again, trying to get their attention.

“No one said all the changes were good ones,” he commented. “And it goes both ways.”

“Like what the West End did to Annie?” Blaine asked.

‘Yes,” Will said with a nod. “But none of these bad changes are why we are here today. Today’s task is fairly simple. The cast will be performing a number from the show. Afterwards, you will each be asked a question about the show. If you get the answer right, you earn five thousand dollars. Get it wrong, you earn nothing. Since two of you already have exemptions for tonight’s execution, there will be no exemption up for grabs during this game. If every single one of you gets your question right, a total of forty thousand dollars will be added to the pot.”

“God knows we need it,” Puck muttered. They all just looked at him. “What? It’s true! We only made ten thousand yesterday!”

Mercedes narrowed her eyes. “Did you forget that you were one of the reasons we didn’t win more than that?” she asked him.

Puck shrugged but said nothing, glancing out the door at some girl who was walking past the theater. Clearly, his focus was still on other, less important things. For a moment, the rest of the players wondered what he was even doing playing the game in the first place. How he was even still there, assuming he wasn’t the mole. Though at this point, most of them still thought he was.

However, there were a few who had their doubts. Mostly because Puck was making himself too obvious. If he was the mole, he was a very careless one.

Will once again clapped his hands together. “If you will all follow me into the actual theater, I believe we’re ready to begin,” he said.

Rachel grabbed a hold of Kurt’s hand, squealing in delight as the players followed Will into the auditorium. Her eyes lit on the stage and Kurt could see the spark of delight in them. He was slightly confused a bit though.

“Don’t you see this everyday in New York?” he asked her. Rachel tsked as if her reasoning was obvious.

“This is the _West End_ production Kurt,” she said, as though it should make a huge difference.

Even though he was just as Broadway savvy as the actual Broadway diva, Kurt couldn’t place how there was a huge difference. He didn’t say anything and slipped his other hand into Blaine’s, who smiled at him and had no qualms kissing the pale man’s cheek.

They filed into the front row with Rachel all the while having a giddy look on her face. She obviously couldn’t wait for this.

The lights dimmed and the music started up and once again, Rachel squealed. She clapped her hands delightedly as the actors took to the stage for the number. Fiyero’s _Dancing Through Life_ . the petite brunette was a little disappointed that they weren’t going to perform one of her two favorite numbers, _Defying Gravity_ or _For Good_ , but she figured the point was to do something that included much of the ensemble. There was more potential for trivia in an ensemble scene after all.

When the number concluded, Rachel was the first on her feet, applauding enthusiastically and grinning from ear to ear with her show face. The rest of the players - except Puck and Santana - all stood as well. Puck didn’t bother applauding at all as the expression on his face showed he was bored and Santana just didn’t give a standing ovation. She didn’t think it was necessary. They were good, but it was just one number.

The cast bowed to them and all took seats on the stage. They were joined by anyone who wasn’t included in the number.

Will grinned at them all. “Thank you so much for having us,” he said to the cast. They all grinned at him.

“It’s a pleasure really. We’re happy to be a part of the fun and help in any way that we can,” the actress playing Elphaba said with a small smile.

“Not to be rude,” Santana said. “But is there a reason you’re all sticking around?”

Will grinned again. “Well, they will be the ones asking the questions. As I said, there will be one question for each of you. If you get it right, you earn five thousand dollars for the pot. If you get it wrong, well, that money will go to the mole. Are there any questions before we begin?” The players all shook their heads. “Alright, let’s get started. Kurt, the first question is for you,” he said.

Kurt held his breath and the actor playing Fiyero smiled at him. “What does Elphaba turn Fiyero into?” he asked, his authentic British accent shining through now that he was no longer in character.

The pale man let out a relieved sigh. He knew this. Of course he knew this. “She turns him into the scarecrow,” he said easily.

“Correct,” Fiyero said, grinning at him with a nod.

“Well done Kurt,” Will said. “Five thousand dollars has been added to the pot, bringing the total to one hundred and forty-nine thousand dollars. Brittany, you’re next!”

The blonde girl applauded happily and Madame Morrible looked at her. “What school do the characters go to?” she asked.

Brittany frowned. “We don’t go to school anymore,” she said. “I mean, I go to school for mathematics.” She turned and started to count on her fingers, the others giving her curious looks. “Forty-two?” she finally said.

Rachel fought the urge to facepalm. “Why would you say that?” she asked.

“Because it’s the answer to everything. That galaxy thing says so.”

“That’s just a movie!” Rachel said.

“And a book,” Blaine added, though he patted Brittany on the shoulder, frowning slightly at Rachel.

“I’m sorry,” Madame Morrible said, fortunately deciding not to comment on how confusing Brittany seemed to be. “But the correct answer is Shiz University.” She smiled encouragingly to the blonde, whose face fell. Santana gently patted her hand, glaring daggers at Rachel, praying that she would get her own question wrong so everyone could laugh at the Broadway star.

“That answer is incorrect Brittany,” Will said. “No money will be added to the pot. Puck, you’re next.”

The mohawk man glanced at the actors with a bored look on his face. “Sure, whatever,” he said. He wasn’t doing anything to help his case.

It was Doctor Dillamond who spoke next. “Which character sang the famous song Popular?” he asked.

Puck looked at him. “None of them.” He snorted. “They aren’t popular at all. They’re boring.” The rest of the players all frowned, as did the actor playing Doctor Dillamond, but he decided not to comment on this.

“Technically,” he said, “Two characters sing this song, but it is primarily Galinda who sings it.”

“Sorry Puck,” Will said, giving the man a disapproving frown. “That answer is incorrect. No money will be added and the pot remains at one hundred and forty-nine thousand dollars.” The other players groaned.

“You could at least try to be interested,” Mercedes said. Puck just raised an eyebrow at her and shrugged.

“Quinn,” You’re next.

“Give me your best shot,” she said.

“Who was Elphaba’s father?” Boq asked her.

Quinn stayed quiet to think about it for a moment. This wasn’t one of those questions that felt like it would be common enough knowledge that people who didn’t know the show that well would know the answer to it. And while she was pretty familiar with the show because she loved following the stage, it was something she needed to think about a little more. Thankfully, she remembered that she had actually read the original book.

“The Wizard of Oz,” she said after several moments of silence.

“What?” Santana questioned in surprise. Clearly, the Latina felt that Quinn probably got the answer wrong.

“You are…” Boq paused for dramatic affect. “Correct!” The players cheered and clapped her on the back in congratulations. Quinn grinned. Santana looked stunned.

“Well done Quinn!” Will said. “Five thousand dollars will be added to the pot, bringing the total up to one hundred and fifty-four thousand dollars! Mercedes, it’s your turn!”

Mercedes drew a breath and looked back at the cast.

“Who sings Defying Gravity?” Nessarose asked her, smiling gently. Santana muttered under her breath about Mercedes getting the easiest question they could possibly give anyone.

“Oh, you know that’s our girl Elphaba,” Mercedes said with a dramatic wave of her hand. She grinned happily. Sure, it was an easy question, but at least it was over and she could relax a bit.

“Correct,” Nessarose said.

“What gives?!” Santana shouted. “That was like the easiest question in the book!”

It was Rachel who answered her. “Which is why they used it. All of us know the answer to that question obviously, so deciding whether to answer it correctly is a risk. A wrong answer could draw attention to you being the mole. However, giving a wrong answer on purpose would be a good tactic if you are in fact, not the mole.”

Santana rolled her eyes.

Will cleared his throat. “Another correct answer, another five thousand dollars added to the pot,” he said. “Blaine, you’re up.”

Galinda, or Glinda, however you wanted to refer to her glanced over at Blaine and winked at him in a kind of flirtatious manner. Kurt suppressed a snort. He wasn’t jealous in the least in this case. It was kind of funny seeing how much girls automatically assumed he was obtainable. Blaine had that going for him really well.

“What happens when Dorothy throws water on Elphaba?” she asked.

Blaine was quick to answer, because this was also an easy question. “She melts.” Santana rolled her eyes again.

“Oh come on! That was easy too!” she said, failing to notice Kurt and Rachel exchanging glances with each other.

“Incorrect,” Glinda said. And the Latina looked at her in disbelief. “She actually just pretends to melt,” she added.

Blaine was quick to realize his mistake however. He had already facepalmed before Glinda had told him he was incorrect. “I spoke too soon,” he said frowning. “I knew that. I knew it was a trick question. The witch does melt in the actual Wizard of Oz but in Wicked, she only pretends to melt.” He frowned again. “This is what overconfidence does to you.” He sighed and shook his head.

Kurt put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay sweetie,” he said gently. “We’ve all gotten answers we should know wrong before.” Blaine smiled at Kurt, turning to place a kiss to the back of the hand on his shoulder.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, causing the pale man to blush.

“I’m sorry Blaine,” Will said. “Because you were technically wrong, no money will be added to the pot. Santana, show us what you’ve got!”

Santana eyed the group of actors sitting on the stage and smirked. “Give me your best shot.” Just because she wasn’t a musical buff like Rachel or Kurt, didn’t mean that she wouldn’t get the answer right, she was sure.

The Wizard of Oz looked at her with a playfully serious expression, if playfully serious was a thing anyway. “Who is the Wicked Witch of the East?” he asked.

It was common knowledge that the Wicked Witch of the East was the sister of the Wicked Witch of the West. It’s stated in the original Wizard of Oz. But Santana knew in Wicked, she actually had a name. Thankfully, Wicked was one of the most well known shows and information like this was easier to find than some of the other more in depth answers.

She took a moment to make sure she was right about her guess before she answered.

“Nessarose,” Santana said, grinning triumphantly from ear to ear.

“Correct,” The Wizard of Oz said, nodding his head. Everyone else was slightly surprised but not so much. They wouldn’t put it past Santana to make sure she didn’t look bad when put on the spot like that.

“Good job Santana!” Will said. “With yours and Mercedes’ correct answers, the pot now stands at one hundred and sixty-four thousand dollars. Rachel, you are the final player,” he said, nodding to the petite brunette.

She squealed, knowing that she was so going to get the answer right. And that she was going to get asked by the Elphaba herself!

The woman in green gave her a very Elphaba-like smile. “What kind of Animal is Doctor Dillamond?” she asked.

Rachel was part relieved, and part disappointed with the question. On the one hand, she didn’t have to appear overconfident because it was clearly something she knew the answer to. But on the other, she kind of wanted something more challenging so she could show off a little bit. Rachel highly doubted there was a single piece of trivia about the show that she didn’t know the answer to.

However, she chose to pause for her own dramatic affect. She couldn’t seem too eager to give them the right answer after all.

“He’s a goat of course,” she finally said.

“That would be correct,” Elphaba said with another smile at her. “And one more thing, break a leg when you hit the stage in green back home,” she said.

Rachel stared at her for a long moment. “I beg your pardon?” she asked.

Elphaba gave her another one of those smiles. “It’s no coincidence you went last, or that I was giving you your question. Rachel Berry, you will be Broadway’s next Elphaba.”

The petite brunette squealed so loud, she echoed in the empty theater. The cast laughed and the other players clapped their hands over their ears. Rachel was repeatedly shouting, “Oh my God!” and thanking her lucky stars over and over again.

It took a full twenty minutes to get her to calm down and refocus on the game, after which, Will congratulated her on a correct answer.

“You banked twenty-five thousand dollars out of a possible forty thousand dollars available for this game. Not too shabby,” he said. “After two more days of play, the pot now stands at one hundred and sixty-nine thousand dollars. Let’s head back to the hotel and prepare for the execution tonight.”

They all thanked the cast, stood, and left the theater. The black car that had followed them there was nowhere in sight when they emerged and Kurt let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

There was no sign of the black car as the players rode in the van back to the hotel. Kurt only hoped that whatever it had been, it wouldn’t be coming back while they were still in England. He also hoped that they wouldn’t be in England much longer. As much as he loved it in London, he was very unnerved by the secret admirer thing and couldn’t shake the feeling that whomever was driving that black car had been after him.

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand as they headed down to the execution dinner that night. Kurt was walking closer to the younger man then he thought he possibly could.

“Are you alright?” Blaine asked him gently.

Kurt sighed. “I’m still just a bit shaken up,” he admitted. “I’ll be fine though.”

Blaine didn’t look entirely convinced so Kurt stopped and kissed him sweetly right in the hall. The curly haired man couldn’t argue with that.

“How about after the stress of this execution, we have some quality time together?” Kurt whispered against his lips. Blaine could only kiss him again, wishing the execution was over already and thankful that they shared a room so no roommates could barge in and interrupt them.

“I like that idea,” he said, pressing one more kiss to the other man’s lips.

“I like you,” Kurt said.

Blaine smiled. “I like you too.” And really, he felt more than that. But now was not the time.

As they settled down at the table a little bit later, Will raised his glass. “A toast to whomever will be leaving us tonight,” he said as usual. The players all toasted him and sipped their drinks.

It was quiet for a few moments as everyone dug into their meals. No one could deny that the food at these hotels was delicious.

“So,” Will stated again, setting his fork down. “I have a proposition for you all.” The players glanced at each other. Of course he did. Once more, Will handed them all slips of paper. “Now, this is sort of similar to another proposition I gave you in this game.” Again, the players glanced at each other. “On the papers, you will write the word, yes, or no. The first three people who give me a yes, will earn five thousand dollars for the pot, for a chance to make up the remaining fifteen thousand you didn’t earn today.”

“What are we buying?” Puck asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

Will grinned and shook his head. “If I told you that, I wouldn’t get a fair answer.” Of course that would be the catch.

“When will we find out?” Kurt asked, folding his paper in half and handing it back to Will. Before Will could answer though, he quickly added, “Yes, my name’s on it.” Will nodded.

“You will find out tomorrow morning at breakfast,” he said.

The players glanced at each other as they each did the same as Kurt.

“So one of us will never know until the episode airs,” Mercedes said as she handed her paper back to the host.

“That kind of sucks,” Santana admitted with a shrug. “I wouldn’t want to be the one to go home not knowing the outcome of this.”

Will took the last of the papers and put them away in a bowl, setting it to his side. “Puck and Brittany, you have both earned exemptions and therefore cannot be executed tonight. To the rest of you, good luck,” he said, sipping from his glass.

One at a time, the players went in to take the quiz. Ten questions about the mole.

Question One: Is the mole male or female?

Question Two: Who was the mole’s partner in the Puzzling Colors game?

Question Three: What kind of puzzle did the mole have to solve?

Question Four: Did the mole successfully complete their puzzle?

Question Five: In what order did the mole answer their question in the Wicked Trivia game?

Question Six: Did the mole get their question correct in the Wicked Trivia game?

Question Seven: Which character asked the mole their question in the Wicked Trivia game?

Question Eight: From Will’s point of view, where was the mole sitting at breakfast this morning?

Question Nine: What is the number of the mole’s journal?

Question Ten: Who is the mole?

With all their answers finalized, the remaining eight players filed into the seats in the ballroom, marveling at its decor, a few of the girls gasping in awe.

As always, Will was waiting for them in front of the TV screen.

“Good evening and welcome to your fifth execution,” he began. “The player who scored the lowest on the quiz will be executed. In the event of a tie, the player who answered the questions in the slowest time, will be executed. In a moment, I will tap your picture on the screen to gain access to your results. If the screen turns green, you are safe and can continue playing. If the screen turns red, you are the mole’s fifth victim. You must take your bag and leave the game immediately. Puck and Brittany, you have both earned exemptions, which means you cannot be executed tonight. Let’s begin, shall we? Mercedes.”

The dark skinned diva clasped her hands together under her chin, holding her breath. Kurt patted her on the shoulder, trying his best to be supportive. After the game that day, he didn’t think Mercedes was the mole. She’d given an honest answer to an easy question. But there was someone he was starting to keep an eye on more and more at this point.

Will tapped Mercedes’ picture and hit the access results button. Everyone waited. It was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

The screen flashed green. Mercedes was safe for another week and she visibly relaxed.

“Kurt.”

It was the pale man’s turn to tense up and Blaine grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. Will tapped his picture and the results button.

Kurt found himself rethinking his answers, hoping he had done just enough. His eyes glanced around at all the other players in the room. With two people having exemptions, Kurt was aware he had a one in six chance of being the player to go home tonight. Gaga, he didn’t want to go home tonight. Even if the secret admirer stuff and black car following them was making him uneasy enough to want to leave as soon as possible.

Several moments of silence passed and then...the screen flashed green.

The chestnut haired man dropped his head on Blaine’s shoulder and let out a sort of relieved laugh. Blaine kissed his hair.

“Santana.”

“Bring it on!” the Latina stated. She seemed to get kind of a thrill out of the fact that this was nerve wracking. But to Santana Lopez, nothing without risk was worth it.

Will tapped her picture and the access results button and again the room waited.

Again, the screen flashed green. With Santana now safe, Quinn, Blaine, and Rachel all had a one in three chance of being the person to go home. Kurt wrapped his hand tighter around Blaine’s, feeling his nerves hike up once again. He couldn’t imagine being in this game when Blaine could not.

“Rachel.”

The petite brunette sat up straighter and smoothed out the skirt she was wearing. Her eyes kept darting to her packed duffle and back to Will. He tapped her picture and then the results button.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt could tell that Rachel was biting her lip. He raised an eyebrow at the sight, wondering why she seemed to be less put together tonight than at the other executions. If Rachel was on edge, she had good reason to be.

The screen flashed red.

“Rachel, please grab your bag and come with me.” There were quite a few gasps from the group. Kurt was aware that Rachel was one of the top suspects in this game. They all knew who the other one was. And he was still in the game. Kurt side-eyed Puck with a dirty look as Rachel followed Will out after saying a brief goodbye to everyone.

Will lead Rachel out the awaiting car. “I get the sense that you had a feeling tonight,” he said gently as he opened the door for her.

Rachel sighed. “I knew my quiz wasn’t my best. It might have been better for me to find out the Elphaba news after the execution. My mind was a bit preoccupied and I wasn’t as focus as I should have been. I’m pretty sure I failed to read at least half the questions and was just blindly clicking to get through it. That was a mistake on my part.”

“Well,” Will said. “We’re going to miss you. Any last words?”

She smiled. “Tell them all good luck and whoever the mole is, must be doing a damn good job because I don’t have the slightest clue. Also, make sure they all know to come see me on Broadway as Elphaba! I’ll give them complimentary tickets. Even Puck.”

Will chuckled and shut the door to the car. Rachel waved as it drove off.  
  
_Maybe I should start doing target practice,_ thought the mole.


	11. Take A Dip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!! Are you as surprised as me that this is finally going up?!
> 
> On that note, I am so sorry that this took so long! I've had writer's block on this chapter for ages! I couldn't come up with a game idea I wanted. Granted, I'm still not entirely happy with it in the end, but at least it's done. And the chapter is over 7000 words for it. I can't tell you how many times I started writing this chapter and then decided I wasn't happy with it, scratched it and started over. I'm so glad this hurdle has finally been conquered and hopefully, future chapters won't be as big of an issue.
> 
> I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy in this trying times. Go watch Hollywood if you haven't yet because hot damn! And even Darren is going to be looking for the fanfics on that one. He tweeted so himself pretty much.
> 
> One more thing before I end these notes, those of you who are waiting on He Was A Shooting Star, the next chapter is currently in progress. I don't have the writer's block excuse for that one. But real life got incredibly busy because after my manager left, everyone at my job was dropping like flies so my hours increased and then I got laryngitis, the worst case I've ever had. But hopefully I'll be wrapping up the chapter soon and it will go up as well!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this long awaited chapter! Keep on guessing who is the mole? Comments and kudos make me smile!
> 
> P.S. Anyone else out there currently obsessed with Animal Crossing? xD

“One more added to the bunch as the only Berry was plucked from the tree and Rachel became the mole’s fifth victim,” Will stated from his spot in front of the theater. “Tensions were high for more than one reason. Someone seemed to be stalking Kurt, but he wasn’t letting it get in the way of finding out the answer to that ever elusive question, who is the mole?

“Twelve strangers, working together to reach a prize total of five hundred thousand dollars. But among them is a saboteur, a traitor, a double agent working for us to try and hinder the other players from banking the money. That person is the mole. Their task is simple. To win the money, they must answer one question. Who is the mole?

“Is it Kurt Hummel?

“Blaine Anderson?

“Quinn Fabray?

“Mercedes Jones?

“Noah Puckerman?

“Santana Lopez?

“Or Brittany Pierce?”

Rachel’s profile had now joined the previous executed players and ‘Executed’ had been stamped across her picture.

Quality time with Blaine was doing wonders for Kurt’s tension and slight paranoia. Though if he was honest, he’d become quite good at hiding that kind of thing. Kurt was an expert at not letting anyone see that something was bothering him. He’d done it all throughout high school, in which case his dad had never realized just how bad things were for him. Though these days, Kurt didn’t see that as his proudest accomplishment. The very thought made him cringe.

The cringe only lasted moments though because it was suddenly kissed away by the curly haired man who had worked himself on top of him and Kurt’s brain short-circuited. Fuck, Blaine was incredible, so much so that the word wasn’t strong enough to describe just how much.

“You okay?” the shorter man asked, pulling away and panting a bit heavily. A couple of bath towels lay discarded on the floor of their room after both men had rushed through showers. Kurt smiled up at him.

“Better than,” he responded, reaching up a hand to cup Blaine’s cheek. The curly haired man smiled back and placed a small kiss to the center of Kurt’s palm.

“Good,” he said.

They kissed for several more amazing minutes before Kurt broke it reluctantly. “Blaine?” he asked.

“Hm?” the other man hummed, nuzzling his nose against Kurt’s cheek.

“What are we going to do after this is over?”

That gave Blaine pause and he used his arms to brace himself as he pulled back and hovered over the taller man, gazing down at him curiously. “What do you mean Kurt?”

Kurt sighed and pulled himself into a sitting position, Blaine rolling off him to sit beside him on the bed. He watched the taller man pull his knees to his chest and wrap his arms around them.

“What if we never see each other again after this game is over?” Kurt asked, giving a hint of insecurity in his words.

“That’s never going to happen,” Blaine reassured him.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I won’t let it.”

Kurt stared at Blaine in complete awe for a moment. He’d never met a man so truly determined to see things through. Sure, he’d had some great relationships in the past but there was always something that struck a chord with him. Something that said, ‘this guy isn’t quite right for me.’ But here, with Blaine, he didn’t feel a single one of those signals. This man was nothing like the others. And a part of him wondered if he was out of his league. Blaine seemed too good to be true sometimes. The kind of guy Kurt wanted but never thought he was good enough to have.

Instead of more words, he found Blaine’s lips coming towards his once more.

The two men lost all track of time, spending countless minutes losing themselves in each other’s passionate kiss. Though neither man dared to take it a step further. Though they both itched to learn the other’s body in completion, they both knew here and now was not the right place or time.

Neither man realized they had fallen asleep with Blaine nuzzled on top of Kurt, head tucked under the other man’s chin, until a sudden knock at the door startled them awake.

“What was that?” Kurt whispered, his eyes beaming at Blaine in the dark, fear clearly written in them.

“I don’t know,” Blaine whispered back. He slid off the bed and made his way over to the door. “Who is it?” he called out, not wanting to open the door without having an idea who it was.

There was no answer and Blaine glanced back at Kurt who sat up in the bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin. The curly haired man decided it was probably best not to open the door and went to rejoin the other man.

Just as he turned back, there was another knock.

“Whoever they are, they’re sure persistent.”

Kurt tightened his grip on the blanket he was holding up to his chin. He was sure that if they didn’t open it soon, whoever it was might just barge in. So he simply nodded his head.

Blaine drew a deep breath, swallowed and opened the door.

The next morning at breakfast, Will took a seat at the head of the table and smiled around at the players.

“Do you have something to tell us?” Santana snapped. She was sitting with her arms crossed over her chest and her breakfast untouched. Brittany attempted to pat her comfortingly on the shoulder.

“Hm?” Will said, looking at them. “Like what?” Clearly he was acting oblivious.

“Like why three people are missing this morning,” Mercedes put in. She, Santana, Brittany, and Puck were all staring at him questioningly.

“Oh that!” the host cried, almost as though it were perfectly normal. “Well, you see, they all said yes,” he added casually.

The four remaining players all glanced at each other. They hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about.

“What the hell?” Puck said.

Will paused for dramatic effect. “You remember last night when I told you to write yes or no on the papers and the first three people who wrote yes would earn five thousand dollars each?” They all looked at each other and nodded. “Yes well, I neglected to mention those three were volunteering to take a dip so to say. Also, they don’t know it yet, but they’ve bought themselves neutralization for the next execution.”

“Take a dip?” Santana questioned him after a moment.

“Well,” Will started. “Maybe they will, maybe they won’t.”

The remaining players all glanced at each other. What in the world did he mean by that?

“White boy you be trippin,” Mercedes commented. Will set his napkin on the table and merely smiled at her.

“Okay, this shit is starting to get both creepy and old,” Puck blurted out. “You never react to degrading comments or insults and just sit or stand there being Mr. Happy.” He looked as though he wanted to add something, but must have thought better of it because he promptly shut his mouth a few moments later.

“Here’s the deal,” Will said after a beat had passed, and once more, he showed no reaction to Puck’s outburst. “Your fellow players have been taken to a warehouse where they’re all hung up, shall we say. Whether they take a dip or not will be dependent on you. As will how many times.”

Once again, the players all exchanged looks with each other. Will stood from the table and smiled once more at them.

“If you will all follow me,” he said. Without much else to go on, the four remaining players didn’t have any other choice but to follow him.

Will lead them through the corridors of the hotel until they reached what turned out to be a movie theater. Mercedes looked around the theater in awe for a moment. She’d never seen a theater in a hotel before.

The host gestured for the four players to file into the front row. At the moment, the screen was blank. He moved to lean against the railing in front of them and it was then that they noticed the two-way speaker he was holding in his hands.

“In a moment,” Will started, that screen is going to come on and you are going to get a look at your friends’ predicament. Each of you will be asked three general knowledge trivia questions, one for each of your fellow players. You get the question right, you earn a thousand dollars for the pot and the player in question will not have to take a dip. You get it wrong, no money will be added and the player in question will find themselves dropped into a messy situation.”

Once again, Puck, Santana, Mercedes, and Brittany all glanced at each other. They weren’t exactly sure what was going on just yet. The screen had yet to come on.

Will held up the two-way speaker. “We will be using this to communicate with the production crew who is handling things on that side. Are there any questions?” he asked. Regardless of the fact that they didn’t know everything yet, none of them said anything, because they were quite sure all was about to be revealed. “A possible twelve thousand dollars is up for grabs with this game. As well as the cleanliness of your friends.”

It was then that he gestured to the screen and it came on. The four players found themselves staring at a warehouse. Kurt, Blaine, and Quinn had been hoisted high into the air, their hands behind their backs and blindfolds covering their eyes. But perhaps the most shocking aspect of all, were the giant tubs located beneath each of them.

“What’s in those things?” Santana asked, grimacing.

Will smiled. “We humans sure do love our toppings. If you get questions wrong, your friends will be dropped into these tubs. Get a question wrong for Kurt and he’ll become a nacho smothered in melted cheese.” Mercedes grimaced, feeling that was probably the worst and Kurt was not going to like it at all. “Get a question wrong for Blaine, he’ll be the sundae drenched in chocolate. And get a question wrong for Quinn, she’s our Italian dinner covered in tomato sauce.”

By this time, Mercedes was shaking her head. “I got a bad feeling about how Kurt is going to take this. Once he finds out what exactly is happening.”

“Can I switch places with the dolphin?” Brittany chirped. “I love cheese!”

Santana patted her shoulder and Puck and Mercedes just gave the girl a questioning look. The two of them were both smart enough not to say that they were quite sure all three would end up being dipped at least once.

“I’m sure by now you all know, this is how we handle hostage situations on The Mole,” Will stated. “Shall we get started then?” When no one objected, he turned on the two-way speaker. “Can you guys hear me?”

“Is this your doing?!” they heard Kurt shout. Despite being high in the air, they could hear him quite clearly. The camera zoomed in on him as he spoke and they could see he had a headpiece on. It appeared all three of them were equipped with mics they could use to talk to Will and the others.

“Kurt!” Mercedes cried. “Are you okay boo?”

“I’m hanging who knows how many feet up in the air above who knows what!” he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “What do you think?”

“They just had to go and ruin our night!” Blaine muttered loudly from beside him. Kurt’s head turned in the curly haired man’s direction.

Quinn so far had said nothing, but even with the blindfold on, they could tell that she wasn’t the happiest about her current situation.

“I hate to be the bearer of more bad news,” Will said into the speaker, “But there is one more thing we forgot to tell you about saying yes.”

The first sound from Quinn came when she groaned along with Kurt and Blaine. “I have a feeling I know what’s coming,” she said. “This is so not worth the five thousand dollars apiece.”

“This game is supposed to be fun!” Kurt said. Of course, he could hardly complain, because being an avid watcher of the show, he should have already guessed that something this crazy would be coming at some point. He just hadn’t expected himself to be on the crazy side of the equation.

Will waited a beat to make sure nothing more was said between the three hanging before he continued. “By writing yes on your papers, you not only volunteered to be the hostages today, but you also neutralized yourselves for the next execution,” he continued. The three of them groaned again and the four players in the theater all frowned. “Oh wait, I forgot one minor detail. By saying yes, you’ve also neutralized three other people. However, which three those are will depend on the outcome of this challenge.” The four players in the theater all tensed at his words.

“What do you mean?” Santana asked.

“I mean, the one of you who answers the most questions correctly, will be the only person safe from execution tomorrow night. There are no other ex emptions available.”

“Great!” Puck exclaimed. “Now he tells us.”

Santana crossed her arms over her chest. “And what if more than one person gets the most questions right?” she asked.

“Then there will be a tie breaker question. Whoever answers it correctly or correctly the fastest, will earn the exemption.”

They seemed to have thought of everything.

“I’m not getting any younger here!” they heard Quinn shout. Undoubtedly, this was the second time both she and Blaine had found themselves in an uncomfortable situation together.

“Is that even safe?” Mercedes asked.

Will just nodded. “Okay my hangers, listen up. You will get to decide who answers the question for you. The catch, you can only pick each remaining player one time. Kurt, you were yes number one, so you get question number one. Who do you want?”

Kurt was quick to answer. “Mercedes,” he said. Out of the four remaining players, she was the one that he trusted the most and she was the one he was most confident would genuinely try to answer her question correctly.

Will looked at Mercedes. “Okay, the first question is for you the Mercedes. This is for Kurt. What do the stripes on the American flag represent?”

Thank God this was a US history question that every American should know the answer to. Mercedes let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “The thirteen original colonies,” she replied almost immediately.

“You are correct,” Will said. “And Kurt stays clean. Blaine, your turn next. Who do you choose first?”

Blaine was quiet for a moment. The blindfold over his eyes concealed too much to make his expression readable. “Santana,” he finally said.

Santana perked up when he said her name, sitting up straighter in her seat. As amazing as it might have been to see the sexy hobbit covered in chocolate, her first thought was what she would want if she was in his position. And this wasn’t exactly the way she would choose to be covered in chocolate.

Will turned to her. “Okay Santana, this question is for you.” He paused and the Latina resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “What is currently the tallest building in San Francisco?”

Well shit. Santana’s eyes went wide as saucers. Blaine was seriously going to hate her if she got this one wrong. Particularly because he was from San Francisco. He would know the answer to this question. And it couldn’t be her first thought because of the use of the word currently, which meant there was now a taller building than what had previously been known as the tallest building in San Francisco.

She shut her eyes and cursed under her breath. “I’m sorry Blaine,” she said. “I don’t know the answer to that,” she admitted.

To her surprise, Blaine didn’t seem angry about it. “It’s okay,” he said. “That’s a terrible question. Not everyone knows about the creation of the Salesforce Tower, originally called the Transbay Tower, even though it’s been in the news a lot for cracks in the building.” The Transbay Tower was basically the new transportation hub of downtown San Francisco. However, it had some building errors and proved to not have been as stable as originally thought. It was closed for repairs not long after it was first opened.

“Santana, you have failed to answer the question correctly, and no money was added to the pot. It still stands at one hundred and seventy thousand dollars.” Will said. “That also means…” He trailed off and looked at the screen. Suddenly, Blaine was dropped and the curly haired man let out a yelp as he fell and splashed into the tub of chocolate. Sputtering could be heard as he was pulled back out.

“I have a feeling I’m not going to be too fond of chocolate anymore after this,” Blaine remarked, trying to lick the sweet from his lips. Chocolate was dripping from everywhere. The four players in the theater were surprised there was still chocolate left in the tub.

“I think you look delicious!” Brittany said. Santana gave her a funny look.

Will cleared his throat. “Moving on. Quinn, it’s your turn. Who would you like to save you first?”

Quinn’s expression was hard to read with the blindfold covering half her face, but it clearly was not the nicest of expression, given the frown they could all see.

“At the risk of regretting this, Puck,” she said.

The man with the mohawk looked stunned. Not because she had chosen him, but because of what she’d said before she chose him. As if she thought he wouldn’t try to save her. Contrary, Quinn was probably the only person left in the game Puck really wanted to save. However, with all the odds stacked against him right now and the fact that it was no secret everyone wanted him out, it was probably smarter to play this game safe and actually really try for all three of them.

“Okay Puck, this question is for you,” Will said. “How long is the average pregnancy of an elephant?”

Puck nearly spluttered at the question. What the hell kind of question was that to ask anyway? It sounded like one of those random factoids you knew, but didn’t really necessarily need to know because it wasn’t really something that would ever come up in general life. Perhaps the strangest thing of all though, was that he actually knew the answer.

“Twenty-two months,” he said after a beat. The other three players in the theater gawked at him for a moment. How the hell had he known that?

“That’s correct Puck,” Will said. “One thousand dollars has been added to the pot and Quinn is safe from taking a dip in tomato sauce. Your total now stands at one hundred and seventy-one thousand dollars. Kurt, we are now back to you,” he went on.

Kurt kind of surprised everyone when his decision. “Brittany,” he said. He knew it was a longshot with how innocently pure the blonde girl was. But if she got the question wrong, hopefully, it would be his one and only dip. He supposed it was a risk he was willing to take.

“Brittany, the next question is for you.” The blonde clapped her hands giddily as she was prone to do. “How many feet are in a yard?”

Kurt almost cried with the luck of the question. It was a measurement. Measurements were an aspect of math and Brittany was a mathematics student. She’d solved things more complicated than this question.

The woman tapped her chin in thought for a moment. Of course, she could still get it wrong with the fact that she might not completely understand what they were doing. When she finally did speak, she gave her answer in typical Brittany fashion.

“You know, I always wondered if yards were aliens. I mean, they have three feet and humans only have two. Or maybe they just wear different jeans.”

Santana patted her gently on the shoulder and for the briefest of moments, Will’s usual positive no reaction faltered as a flash of confusion crossed the host face.

“Ha!” Santana blurted out. She’d seen it. “You can show other reactions!” she shouted, pointing to Will.

The host cleared his throat. “Moving on, three feet is the correct answer Brittany. One thousand dollars is added to the pot, bringing it up to one hundred and seventy-two thousand. And Kurt is once again safe from being dropped.”

Kurt thanked a God he didn’t believe in. After all four players had answered one question each, three thousand dollars had been won and Blaine was still the only hostage who had been dipped.

“Blaine, back to you!” Will said.

The chocolate covered musician spat out a glob of chocolate, which caused Santana to grimace. “Mercedes,” he said. He hoped that she would be able to save him like she had Kurt. Blaine was not keen on being covered in even more chocolate.

The host’s eyes fell on the dark skinned diva again. “Okay Mercedes, what is the average age that children begin to develop memories?”

Mercedes paused and looked from Will to Blaine on the screen, to Will again. This was general knowledge? She closed her eyes for a moment because she was pretty sure she had to have heard that somewhere. Maybe she could figure it out if she could recall her own earliest memory. It was too bad Tina wasn’t still here because she was probably the one person who would be most confident in answering this question.

“You got this Mercedes!” Blaine suddenly encouraged her. And then his words struck something. She had a momentary flashback of her young self sitting on a tricycle. Her dad had been pushing her and was encouraging her that she could do it. She was going to give an answer based on the age she thought she might have been at the time.

“I’m going to say three,” she said finally, biting her lip out of nervousness.

“That is correct,” Will said and Mercedes let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “The average span is about three to five years, but some kids start to remember things as young as the age of two,” he clarified. “One thousand dollars will be added to the pot and Blaine is safe from taking another dip. Your total is now one hundred and seventy-three thousand dollars. Quinn, it’s your turn!”

“Santana,” the blonde woman said. The Latina tensed in her seat. If she was honest, she didn’t feel all that confident in this particular game. Especially after letting Blaine down on a question he would have known the answer to.

Will’s eyes were back on her and she tried to stare back at him with that same intensity she’d exhibited throughout the entire game so far. “Alright Santana, here we go. In what year did the first automobile come out?”

The dark haired woman just sat there and stared at him. She didn’t know anything about cars. All she cared about was riding in one. Why was she getting all the questions that couldn’t be answered easily?

The sound of someone cursing broke her train of thought and she looked at the screen. “I know the answer to that!” Kurt said, following the expletive he’d just let out under his breath.

“No offense porcelain,” Santana said, “But how in the world would you know something like that when I don’t?”

“My dad’s a mechanic,” Kurt replied automatically. “I grew up around cars and I know a lot about them.”

Santana just stared at him for a moment. “That information might have been helpful when we were all scared to death that you’d get hurt in that race!” She rolled her eyes and looked at Will. “I don’t know the answer to that, but I’m going to wager somewhere in the nineteen hundreds.”

Will shook his head. “I’m sorry, that’s incorrect. The pot stays at one hundred and seventy-three thousand dollars.”

“Sorry Quinn,” Santana said, cringing.

Quinn’s only reply was to let out a shrill scream as she was dropped into the tub of tomato sauce.

When she was pulled back up, she spat out some of the sauce and muttered something they couldn’t quite catch but sounded as though she were comparing it to dropping out of the plane at the start of the game.

“What was the answer?” Puck asked.

It was Kurt who answered him. “1886.” All four of the players in the theater had wide eyes.

“That would have been correct,” Will said. “But it’s your turn again Kurt.”

“Puck,” the pale man said.

The mohawked man knew there was a lot riding on this particular answer. If he got it wrong, that would be a low blow. Particularly because it would have meant that Brittany would have been able to save someone that he couldn’t somehow. But at least he knew that if he got it wrong, it was genuinely because he got the wrong answer and not because he wasn’t trying. Of course, he wasn’t sure the rest of them would believe that because to be honest, Puck hadn’t really been genuinely trying at anything the majority of the game.

“The next question is for you then Puck,” Will said.

“Bring it,” he replied.

Will cleared his throat. “What real life serial killer was the inspiration for both Norman Bates from Psycho and Leatherface from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre?”

“Shit,” the man muttered. It wasn’t like he had anything against horror movies. They were awesome. Particularly because they made chicks seek the comfort of your arms, and more often than not could lead to hot sex. But that didn’t mean he knew any of the facts about them.

Puck was quiet for several moments, trying to think of something to say that would at least be an intelligent guess. Mercedes, Brittany and Santana were all watching him. He almost felt like he was being put on the spot. And to be fair, he kind of was. He glanced from Kurt to the tub of cheese and back to Kurt again. The feeling he was getting by knowing what was about to happen, was not a pleasant one.

He finally decided he needed to be honest. There was nothing else he could do to make himself look like he genuinely cared in this case. To be fair, he kind of did.

“I’m sorry Kurt,” he said. “I don’t know the answer to that.”

“You don’t know horror movies?” came Kurt’s slightly panicked voice.

Puck sighed. “I know horror movies. Hell, they’re the best to take chicks to, to get them in your bed at the end of the night, but I don’t know any of that factual stuff,” he admitted.

Kurt grimaced at his implications for horror movies.

“I know the answer,” Quinn said. And everyone looked at her, stunned. “What? Sometimes the downtime between modeling gigs has you killing it with weird stuff.”

Will cleared his throat. “I’m sorry Puck, you didn’t have the correct answer. The correct answer to that question is Ed Gein,” he said. “The pot once again remains at one hundred and seventy-three thousand dollars and Kurt, you’re taking a dip.

The pale man let out a yelp as he was suddenly dropped from his position and plunged into the melted cheese with a sickening squelching sound.

Mercedes and Santana were both cringing by the time Kurt was hoisted back up. There was no doubt that he for some reason was getting the worst treatment. How long was it going to take him to get all that melted cheese out of his immaculate hair?

The slender man muttered something loud enough that they could hear he was speaking, but not so loud that they could make out the words. And they didn’t miss it when whatever he said was cut off as he had to spit out a giant wad of cheese.

“Blaine, we are back to you,” Will said, moving on.

“Don’t let me down Brittany!” Blaine said, his tone playful.

“I can’t. I don’t have access to your rope! I’m sorry dolphin number two,” the blonde said, frowning slightly.

No one said anything.

“The next question is for you Brittany,” the host said finally, breaking the awkward silence. “In what year was candy corn first produced?”

“How the hell is anyone supposed to know the answer to that?” Santana suddenly said. “No one studies candy. They just eat it!”

“I’m sure someone who works in a candy store would know the answer,” Mercedes said. Santana just glared at her and crossed her arms.

“Stop picking on Brittany,” the Latina said, turning her attention back on the host.

Puck let out one of those fake cough things and the fiery woman turned her glare on him. “I don’t know what gives you the right to bitch that he’s picking on her. First of all, I’m sure it’s probably producers that came up with the questions. And secondly, unless you forgot, Brittany has gotten a question right. How many have you gotten right? Oh, that’s right. Zero.”

Santana looked like she was about to claw his eyes out, but Brittany suddenly speaking up stopped her.

“First?” the blonde girl said. “I didn’t think that candy corn was inappropriate for first years so wouldn’t the eleven year olds get to have it?”

Blaine, was the first person to catch on to what she was talking about. And to him it was so funny in an innocent way, he didn’t even care that it meant he was going back in the chocolate.

“What the hell is she talking about?” Mercedes commented.

“It’s a Harry Potter reference,” Blaine choked out between laughter.

For the briefest of moments, Will looked slightly perplexed. “That’s incorrect Brittany. The correct answer is 1880. No money will be added to the pot and it stays at one hundred and seventy-three thousand dollars. And Blaine, you’re going down.”

Once again, Blaine was dropped into the tub of chocolate and if they thought he was completely covered in chocolate before, it was nothing to what he looked like when he came out.

“Thank God the chocolate mats down my hair,” he sputtered as he was hoisted back up. “The last thing I’d want anyone to see is my unruly curls.”

“Shame,” Kurt stated. “I kind of think it would look crazy sexy.”

Blaine was glad he was covered in chocolate, because no one could see the blush that colored his cheeks at the other man’s words.

“Quinn,” Will said. “We are once again back to you!”

“Mercedes,” the blonde woman said. She had full confidence that with two right answers already under her belt, the dark skinned diva might be able to save her from another dip in the tomato sauce.

Although she had gotten her first two questions right, given the last few that had been asked, Mercedes would be lying if she said she was confident about the third one. She wasn’t really all that confident about it. But she hoped beyond hope that she wouldn’t let Quinn down. Quinn was relying on her, just like she had relied on Puck and Santana and while Santana had been wrong, Mercedes hoped that she wouldn’t be.

“This question is for you Mercedes,” Will said. “What color was the Golden Gate bridge once considered to be painted?”

The dark skinned diva froze. She looked towards the screen at Blaine. This was another San Francisco question that he probably would have known the answer to. But she tried to remember something, because she’d visited the city before.

Mercedes shut her eyes and thought. What was it that she swore she’d read somewhere? Where was it that she had read it? She had the niggling in her mind that she actually had the answer stored somewhere.

“Is that a trick question?” Santana suddenly said, breaking Mercedes’ train of thought. “Because it’s the Golden Gate bridge. It wouldn’t be called that if it were any other color. And isn’t the area famous for fog or something?” she added.

“Fog!” Mercedes cried, the very notion clicked the memory on like a light bulb. She remembered what she had read and where she had read it and then looked back at Will. “The Golden Gate Bridge was originally going to be painted black and yellow so that people could see it through the fog!” God bless that trip to San Francisco and her ability to remember the fascinating facts she’d learned at the Ripley’s Believe It or Not museum.

“The hell?” Puck said in disbelief. He opened his mouth to say something else, but decided against it.

“That’s correct Mercedes,” Will said. “Another thousand dollars will be added to the pot, bringing the total up to one hundred and seventy-four thousand dollars.” He looked at the screen. “And Quinn, you are safe this round!” he told her. The girl couldn’t help but to cheer. “Kurt, it’s your last question, and given that she’s the only one left, Santana, it goes to you.”

The Latina swallowed over a lump that was starting in her throat. She was currently 0 for 2 and she definitely did not want to fail her final question. It would make her look bad. Especially as both Brittany and Puck had gotten questions right. They weren’t the ones she would have put her money on. Brittany was innocently clueless and Puck, well Puck just didn’t give a damn. She had to get this.

“What was Rock Hudson’s real name?” Will asked her and Santana drew a blank immediately. It was no secret that celebrities often adapted stage names when they became stars. Names that would sound glamourous in lights.

However, Santana didn’t know anything about Rock Hudson. Sure, the name rang a bell because it would with anyone. But she didn’t know any of his movies, didn’t know anything about him, and certainly didn’t know his real name.

Her eyes fell on Blaine as though she thought looking to him might give her the answer, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

“God I wish I could answer this for myself,” Kurt said, throwing his head back a bit and cursing when cheese flew from his hair.

His comment didn’t make the Latina feel any better. In fact, it made her feel worse that if allowed, he could possibly save himself.

“Well Santana can defer the question,” Will suddenly said.

“What?” all of the players chorused at the same time.

Will nodded his head. “Yeah, if she believes you know the answer, she can defer to you and if you get it right, you won’t be taking another dip. However, deference will come at a price. Should Santana choose to defer, it will not win you any money. Instead, if you answer the question correctly Kurt, it will cost you five thousand dollars from the pot. If you answer it incorrectly, you will be charged ten thousand dollars from the pot. The choice is Santana’s.”

“No deal,” the dark haired woman said, shaking her head. “Not banking any money is way better than losing any money.”

“But if he gets it right,” Mercedes said, “We break even. We’ll be right back where we started the game with still two thousand dollars up for grabs. So, it wouldn’t be a total loss.”

Santana glanced at the girl with narrowed eyes. “But it would still end in earning less money than we have now,” she pointed out. “And if Kurt gets it wrong, we’ll be down five thousand dollars.” Mercedes sighed because she knew the woman was right. “I’d rather get the question wrong myself and not win anything, than risk losing any of the pot. No deal.”

Also, there was the fact that she felt it would make her look even worse if she deferred her question. She already knew with the others all having answered correctly at least once, she was not going to be the one to get the only exemption on the table for the next execution. Mercedes pretty much already had that in the bag anyway. She could very well end up going home.

“I don’t know the answer to this one either,” she said, before Will could confirm that she was not deferring. “But I’m actually just going to take a random guess and say Randall Hudson.”

“Although not a bad guess, it’s incorrect,” Will said, as she had been expecting. “The correct answer is Roy Sherer, though at the time it was Roy Fitzgerald because he’d been adopted by his stepfather. No money has been added to the pot. And no money has been lost because you chose to answer yourself. The pot stands at one hundred and seventy-four thousand dollars and Kurt, I’m sorry but you’re going to get a little more cheesy.”

The pale man groaned and shut his mouth tightly as he was dropped a second time, plunging in with another squelch. The melted cheese really was the worst. And they could see it dripping from the bottoms of his shoes as he was hoisted back up.

“Last round Blaine, which means this question is for Puck,” Will continued. “What was football legend Joe Montana’s number when he played for the Kansas City Chiefs?”

Puck could have cried, he was so relieved. Of all questions to be his last, it was a question about the one thing he knew best. Football. He was also glad the question was about Joe Montana’s lesser known time in his later years. It was a bit more of a challenge and he figured not as many people knew the details of when he played for the Chiefs.

However, for the sake of dramatic effect, he paused for several moments before he decided to reply. And he didn’t miss the eye roll Santana was giving him.

“Nineteen,” he said.

Before Will could respond, Mercedes piped up. “Hold up,” the diva said, raising a hand. “I don’t get it, why would he have another number on a different team?”

Puck gave her an incredulous look. “Are you kidding? Montana was famous for being the star of the 49ers. There’s no way he could have worn the sixteen jersey on another team. Personally, I feel it would have been an outrage for him to. I guess the reasoning is different depending on who you’re talking to. But that’s my opinion.”

Mercedes didn’t say anything else and Will took that moment to continue.

“That is correct Puck. One thousand dollars will be added to the pot, bringing it up to one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars. Blaine will not have to be dropped into chocolate anymore.” He laughed a bit. Blaine would have snapped his fingers if his hands hadn’t been tied behind him.

“Guess getting more than half is down to you and me Brittany,” Quinn said. She knew that the other blonde was the last one left to answer a question and while she had hope that she would get it right, Quinn was more sure that she’d be covered in more tomato sauce by the end of this.

“Can I just say,” Kurt started, spitting out more cheese. “That this is definitely one of the more ridiculous challenges?”

Will didn’t even miss a beat. “Yes well, between you guys and me, I think there were some shenanigans when they came up with this one.” He didn’t elaborate, though the rest of them were pretty sure of what he meant. Going into detail would have been less than appropriate for the television cameras.

“When do we get to do something daring and death defying?” Santana asked then. “I mean, other than jumping out of that plane, we haven’t really done anything like that.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kurt commented. They knew what he was referring to.

Will just grinned. “Don’t worry, there will be things to come down the road.” He winked at them all. “Anyway, Brittany, the last question is for you.” The blonde clapped giddily. “Who wrote the Mary Poppins books?”

Some of the others frowned because it was something that should be rather easy. How many people honestly didn’t know the answer to that? All you had to do was watch the movie  _ Saving Mr. Banks _ if you didn’t already know. But this was Brittany and she tended to not know the answer to a lot of common knowledge questions. Granted, it wasn’t clear why. But nobody ever got down on her for it. Even though she wasn’t really smart, Brittany was the kind of person that everybody still liked to be around. Her innocent cluelessness just made her that much more of the kind of friend to have.

“Mary Poppins was a book? I thought she was a flying nanny?” Brittany said. “She taught me to always take sugar with medicine. But you can’t read her. You have to watch her.”

Santana patted her arm gently. “Brit, Mary Poppins was a movie based on a book.”

“She wasn’t a real person?” Brittany asked.

“No sweetie,” Santana replied.

“Oh,” was all Brittany said, and rested her head on Santana’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry Brittany,” Will said. “You’re incorrect. The correct answer is PL Travers. No money will be added to the pot bringing the final total after this game to one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars. And Quinn, I’m sorry to see you drop one last time.”

The other blonde screamed as she was dropped into the tomato sauce once more. When they pulled her up, it was only out of the tub as she was moved over to land back on the ground. Kurt and Blaine were lowered beside her.

Will looked at the screen one more time. “You guys get cleaned up and we’ll see you back at the hotel.” The screen then shut off and Will’s eyes returned to the four players in the theater. “After that game, you managed to bank another six thousand dollars, bringing the total up to one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars.” They gave a little bit of applause but it still felt like they hadn’t made a dent.

“Measly,” Puck muttered under his breath.

Will was still smiling that damn smile. “But, you add that six thousand dollars to the fifteen thousand dollars your friends earned collectively for saying yes, which now brings the total up to one hundred and ninety thousand dollars!” At this, the players cheered. “Also, Mercedes, because you answered the most questions correctly, you have earned the only exemption and cannot be executed tomorrow night. As for the rest of you, well, you’ve earned yourselves neutralization.” Santana and Puck both groaned and Brittany clapped.

“No Brit, being neutralized is not a good thing,” Santana said gently.

“Oh. I’m sorry Sany. I’m sorry we didn’t win.”

Santana merely patted her hand.

“That will do it for today. Enjoy the rest of your day and I’ll see you all tomorrow morning,” Will said, offering them all a smile and leaving the theater.

Right. Tomorrow. Perhaps the most daunting execution yet.


End file.
